The Potion Master's Wife
by H.Kestrel
Summary: Alone in the remains of a post-war world, Charlotte must come to grips with her new reality – widowed at nineteen and remarried to a cold, brutal man, the mark that scars her forearm like a disease – and decide if it is truly survival that is most important in the wake of devastation, or if it could be something more.
1. Chapter 1

It always rained in Spinner's End.

Charlotte supposed that was simply an effect of England. After it rained, everything seemed just a little bit gray.

A far-cry from the Scottish moors she had grown up in, Spinner's End was a community built under the pretense of shoving as many muggles as humanly possible into the smallest space humanly possible. It was obvious from any reasonable witch or wizard that the entire plan had been concocted by a muggle who lacked any understanding of solitude, peace, or quiet.

Instead, Charlotte listened to the soft music of rain amidst the screaming across the sidewalk that occurred when her muggle neighbors had indulged too heavily in their muggle liquor, and somewhere a child was crying.

Despite all of this, Charlotte reveled in her days at Spinner's End.

At Spinner's End, Charlotte had a garden she could sit in for hours and read the pile of books she purchased over the last summer. There was a certain amount of freedom in sitting outdoors in just her pajamas, curled up on the wooden bench she suspected her husband's mother had purchased for the exact purpose to which she herself used it. Charlotte could lose herself for hours in the dusty pages of a book.

In fact, it was perhaps her favorite thing to do.

When she was not reading, Charlotte cleaned. It was remarkable, she noted each year, how much her husband was capable of in nearly three months. Cobwebs reappeared and soot streaked across the walls from his inability to clear the fireplace. A lingering scent of potion ingredients marred the air in foul odors.

Sometimes, Charlotte wondered if he noticed.

It was not as though her husband was ignorant. He was, perhaps, the most perceptive individual she had ever come across. He was unlike her first husband in nearly every remark and it regularly astounded her that the pair had both been in the same House. Whereas her first husband had been rash and impulsive, her second was calculating and precise.

Severus Snape was a true Slytherin.

As she moved through the small house collecting her belongings, Charlotte wondered what Regulus would think of her now. She had prided herself in their posh London townhouse – their exquisite furnishings and tasteful décor. The house on Spinner's End was anything but exquisite, and the décor was simply nonexistent. Charlotte had loved inviting her friends to have brunch at their home, sitting on their quaint patio and sipping oolong served by the house-elf gifted to her by her mother-in-law.

Just like everything else in the townhome, Bibsy, too, had gone.

She paused suddenly in her search for a pair of sandals, digging her fingers into her temples. Her skin felt suddenly both hot and cold, like pressing a burn to a piece of ice.

Charlotte was not supposed to think about that, she reminded herself.

Snagging the pair of sandals from beneath the sofa, she quickly tucked them under her arm and fished out her pocket watch.

Above the face, reading quarter past eleven, she noted the other hands. Three in total, each with a set of monogrammed initials – CS, SS, and SB – pointing at a variety of locations. Her own hand, CS, stood taught at 'Home', SB had not moved for nearly two years, and finally the initials of her husband, SS, sitting comfortably at 'Hogwarts'.

She scowled.

For nine months of the year, Charlotte lived at Spinner's End. During those months, she dusted away the signs of neglect, tidied as much as she was permitted, and at the end of the school year, she stocked its cupboards full of potion ingredients requested by her husband, and filled its cabinets with food and Snape's preferred liquors.

Severus was as likely to go grocery shopping as Dumbledore was to wear a wig.

Over the summer, Charlotte lived in a rented room at the Leaky Cauldron.

The arrangement had been in place for little more than a year and Charlotte dutifully filled her part of it. After all, she reminded herself as she packed her trunk, it was not as though Severus had come to her to be his wife.

Moving to the bathroom to begin packing her toiletries, Charlotte caught sight of her reflection in the stained, frameless mirror.

She had seen better days.

Her long, coffee-colored hair still held a trace of its former luster, caught in wild waves that had not seen a proper salon in over two years. Charlotte wondered if they still gave chocolate covered clementine's at the salon she had gone to with her mother-in-law. She could still smell the spicy perfumed air and recalled the effortless way the lobbyist had tucked mimosas in their dangling manicured fingers, the soft hush of witch gossip hanging in the air like a fine mist of hairspray.

She was feeling too nostalgic today, she noted, and quickly tied her hair into a haphazard bun.

This was her reality now, she reminded herself, and there were plenty worse off.

Like Regulus.

A large crack interrupted the silence, and Charlotte looked up to see the bathroom sconce explode as a wave of heat washed over her.

"Reparo," she looked up at the sconce to see a few pieces return to the fixture.

Her eyes narrowed, "Reparo!"

Glass quickly fused together under the forceful shout from her mouth and the swish of her wand.

She did not think about how three years ago, she had been able to perform wandless magic with hardly any conviction. She did not think about how as time passed on, Dumbledore's words seemed to grow truer. She did not think about what if's, what could've's, or what would've's.

Charlotte did better when she did not think.

By the time Snape's hand began to slowly tick towards its destination of 'Home', Charlotte had already packed her trunk and was standing by the front door. She had cooked him a Salisbury steak with a few potatoes and a chunk of broccoli, though it had never been part of their arrangement.

This was the first year she had gone the full nine months living alone at Spinner's End, skipping over their wedding anniversary in December as though it were just any other day of the year.

In reality, it was.

Severus hadn't wanted a wife. Charlotte had not really wanted another husband.

Their union was simply one of convenience.

Safety.

Solitude.

_When I return home from Hogwarts, I expect to see no inclination that you lived in this house._

Charlotte did better hardly existing.

_This is not a marriage that will develop beyond our arrangement._

Charlotte had never expected that it would.

_There will be no children. There will be no marital relations. I have no expectation of this from you._

Charlotte did not particularly want to see her husband as naked as the day he was born. But the children bit.

That reality had stung.

For a moment, Charlotte wondered if he had expected her to still be at Spinner's End when he arrived home. The previous year, she had left a few days earlier. But Tom had fewer rooms available this year for long-term guests and Charlotte had agreed to show up late that evening to check in. But by the time she noted the knob of the front door was turning, Charlotte reasoned it was too late to suddenly apparate. She did poorly with that, too, now.

"Hello, Severus," She greeted.

Her husband looked somewhat haggard, but that seemed to be a trademark of Severus.

His hair was looking particularly unwashed, his long nose centered between his narrowed, disdainful gray eyes. Beneath his particularly disapproving expression, his mouth was curled in his signature scowl.

He toted his school trunk, still plastered with Slytherin crests from his schooldays, and the particularly beaten-looking cage of his horned owl – a gift from Dumbledore – and his typical robes thrown over his arm to show a pair of loose black slacks and a fitted black buttoned shirt.

"Charlotte," he said her name carefully, "Did everything go well?"

"Yes, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to check in this year," she began just as carefully, "We didn't discuss it."

Snape stared at her as he closed the door and set his trunk down. His eyes glanced around the room and Charlotte certainly imagined a ghost of a smile wink in his eyes before it was extinguished.

"You do not need to check in with me," He answered after several moments, "Is there anything to which I must be brought aware?"

Charlotte could not think of anything and told him so.

They stood awkwardly in the foyer for several moments.

"Then, I'll be off!"

She sounded awkwardly hasty as she grabbed the handle of her trunk. Her eyes closed and she focused on the Leaky Cauldron. She focused extremely, extremely hard.

Nothing happened.

Severus was staring at her, his mouth's scowl slowly deforming into a frown.

Concern?

No, Snape was never concerned with anyone but Snape.

Charlotte remaindered herself that she was now a Snape and needed to stop calling him that.

"Charlotte?"

Her eyes were burning, and Charlotte quickly squeezed her eyes shut again, and demanded that she go. With every fiber of her being, she demanded she go.

There was a sudden hurl – like falling down stairs – and when she opened her hazel eyes, she was standing in the street before the Leaky Cauldron.

Relief escaped her mouth in an exuberant sigh.

Pain flared at the back of her head, and she reached back to pull away fingertips smeared with blood. A fine line of her scalp was missing. She had splinched herself.

Scowling, Charlotte adjusted her bun and hurried inside the Leaky Cauldron. She had some dittany lingering about in her trunk somewhere and could apply it later. There was no need to panic, she had splinched herself many times. She chanted this mantra to herself as she side-stepped liquored patrons and witches singing another lofty tune about the Dark Lord – no, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – and his fall by the Potter boy.

Charlotte wondered if they would ever grow tired of the bloody tune.

"Mrs. Black!" Tom greeted before his face fell, "I am so sorry, love, Mrs. Snape, now, isn't it?"

Charlotte nodded curtly, "Thank you, Tom. Here to check in."

Tom scratched at his scalp, embarrassment clear on his face as he reached for her room key. "I'll send the bill on over to your room each week, same as last year?"

"Thank you, Tom."

Safely tucked away in her room that still smelled of some sort of new age incense, Charlotte dropped her trunk and allowed herself a moment.

Thirty seconds, she allotted.

Her eyes burned as she collapsed onto the musty, quilted bed. Her face grew hot as she slowly counted to herself. She heard the bulbs of light fixtures popping within the room, the fireplace had begun roaring in the middle of June, and the ceiling fan spun erratically.

Charlotte wanted to go home.

_Seven._

She wanted to go home and lay in bed with her husband, foreheads pressed together.

_Thirteen._

She wanted to laugh on her quaint patio with Bibsy.

A sob escaped Charlotte's mouth.

_Seventeen._

But more than anything – more than her wish of her townhome that had been hers, and the husband that had loved to lay in bed with her and whisper about their future, and the laughter she could share with her beloved house elf – Charlotte felt herself grow cold at her deepest wish.

_Twenty-three._

She wished, more than anything, that she had married the other brother.

_Thirty._

As Charlotte cleaned the broken glass and extinguished the fire, she very carefully emptied her mind of thoughts. She felt them slip away from her like rain off a window pane.

Charlotte really did better now not to think at all.

* * *

Well, there is Chapter One! Please let me know what you think, reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy.


	2. Chapter 2

Wow! Thank you for the lovely reviews, they really make my day. The updates are going to slow down a bit from here but my goal is to post at least one update per week!

\- H. Kestrel

* * *

What was it that Dumbledore had called it?

Repressed magic.

Charlotte rolled her eyes at the thought, curled up on her musty bed in the Leaky Cauldron.

It had been five weeks since she had transitioned to her temporary home and she had already tried to make it as homey as she could manage. She had replaced the moth-ball scented quilt with one she had purchased in London the first year she lived at Spinner's End. It was her favorite color – blue – and seemed to lighten the room considerably. She had placed her own framed photographs on the fireplace mantle – one of herself and Walburga Black on her wedding day, another of two dark-haired brothers and a cheerfully laughing girl, and three girls bunched together in the Slytherin common room – and had lit some lavender candles to get rid of the dingy odor.

Charlotte still used magic, albeit occasionally.

After all, it had been her magic that had caused all of this.

She used simple spells – repairing charms and used plenty of them in her potion brewing – and occasionally she waved her wand to clean. More commonly, Charlotte went about her day the muggle way, and more often than not, left her wand in her room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Three years ago, this would have been blasphemous. Three years ago, Regulus had died and the Dark Lord – no, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – was happily burning down every semblance of happiness she had never known. Charlotte had needed her wand then.

But now He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone, and Charlotte found herself enjoying the lack of her wand. It caused fewer problems in her daily activities. It did not stick her in the ass anymore when she was reading, nor did it catch on things and go spiraling out of her pockets. Charlotte quite liked going wandless as often as possible.

If Dumbledore wanted to call that repressing her magic, then she was perfectly fine with repressing the bloody hell out of it.

She tugged her sleeves down to her wrists, a habit she had acquired as of late, and turned back to her book, ignoring the leering stare of her mother-in-law in the photograph.

Walburga would have expected her to visit.

Though Charlotte and Walburga had their disappointments over the years, Walburga had loved Charlotte.

Charlotte's own parents had died when she was in school, and her mother being close friends with Walburga from their own days at Hogwarts, Charlotte had gone to live with the Blacks. It had always been assumed that Charlotte would marry one of the Black brothers. They had cut their teeth together, after all. Charlotte had learned to walk by yanking Regulus down in his own mobility attempt and had learned to escape her play pen by Sirius's instruction.

Sirius had taught her how to ride a broomstick, and Regulus had refined her dueling. If they had been brought up under normal circumstances, they would have been like sister and brothers. But their upbringing had very little semblance to normal. Walburga wanted one of her boys to marry the Fraser girl, and she had gotten her wish.

Walburga had always doted on her. Perhaps it was that she did not need to carry any expectations of Charlotte, because she was not her own daughter. But Walburga never seemed to grow exceptionally upset with Charlotte over anything – other than when Charlotte attempted a disastrous bob haircut – and had enjoyed spoiling her. The Black matriarch had taken her to get her nails done every holiday they went home and had sent her chocolates and beautiful scarves while at Hogwarts.

Since Regulus had died, Charlotte had not gone to see her.

The shame was simply too much for Charlotte to bear.

It was her fault, after all, that they were living this ghost of a life.

"Stop _THINKING_," Charlotte suddenly shouted to the empty room, "You stupid, silly girl!"

The table side lamp exploded in a glitter of broken glass.

Burying her face into the feathered pillows, Charlotte took deep breaths.

Repressed magic.

That's what Dumbledore had called it.

Growling in frustration, Charlotte sat up and took three attempts to repair the broken lamp before hurling her wand across the room. Standing abruptly, she gathered her books and made her way down to the pub downstairs.

Ordering a pot of oolong from the barmaid, who cast her a dithering look, Charlotte propped her book up at the booth and delved into the realm of fiction.

Walburga had always snickered that she should have been a Ravenclaw.

_Always stuck in a book, that pretty nose of yours._

Charlotte did not think she would have done well in Ravenclaw. Her favorite pastime had always been reading from the time she could do so. However, Charlotte had rarely done exceptional in school and she had not scored a single 'E' in her NEWT's. It had left her ability to secure any kind of career rather dismal, and thankfully Charlotte had some family money to live on.

No, Charlotte had been adequately placed in Slytherin, she thought coldly.

She had done enough to reaffirm that House's reputation.

Several hours passed before Charlotte bothered to look up from her stack of fiction tomes, and glance around the bustling pub. She had drunk a pot of oolong and snacked on several bowls of crisps – to the glowering glare of the barmaid – and was ready to return to repairing the lamp in her rooms.

She recognized the face before it recognized her.

A moment passed between the two sets of hazel eyes, before they brightened in surprise and then in shock, and for a moment a look passed between the two that could simply be described as resignation.

Remus Lupin crossed the Leaky Cauldron pub to stand alongside her booth.

"Hello, Charlotte," he said softly.

Charlotte took note of his robes – which were as ragged as ever – and the fringe of face that had gone a few days without shaving. She recalled the way he had looked last she saw him – in perhaps those same robes, but new, and a bright smile plastered across his face.

Remus looked like he hadn't smiled much in the last three years.

"Remus," She matched his tone, "How are you?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised.

"As well as could be expected. Can I join you?"

Charlotte nodded nervously, watching the werewolf-wizard slide into the booth across from her.

"Come here often?" He joked, but the light didn't come to his eyes.

Charlotte wondered what she should say and bit her lip.

Most of Charlotte's friends had died in the war. Evan Rosier had perished, Bellatrix was in Azkaban with Rabastan, Rudolphus, and Sirius. Despite their numerous agreements to meet up for tea one day, Charlotte had not seen Louisa Rosier in nearly two years. Augustus was busy with his job at the Ministry of Magic, and Wilhemina Wilkes had been killed by her own brother when she married that idiot muggle.

She had not ever had to explain her current predicament. How would she tell anyone that her marriage to Severus had been arranged for them both to save face? Or that it hadn't even been their own idea? It felt like something out of one of Charlotte's books if it weren't so pathetically sad.

"I stay here, during the summer," Charlotte decided.

Remus peered at her for a moment, digging his fingers into the bowl of potato crisps.

But Charlotte recalled that Remus was exceptionally kind and felt relief flood over here when he shrugged and began discussing his most recent job working for a printing company. She was delighted that he could whisper confirmation of her favorite author's new book release.

"I heard a rumor," he said after a half hour of uncommitted conversation, "That you married Snape?"

Charlotte felt her cheeks burn, "Ah, yes. About a year ago."

Remus glanced about the pub, "Where is Sni- excuse me - Severus?"

She hadn't heard any one dare to refer to Snape's Hogwarts nickname in years, and found a startled laugh escape her mouth.

"Home, I imagine," she offered, "I couldn't tell you, honestly."

Remus raised a single brow, "He's your husband."

"We don't live together."

It appeared that too many unasked questions have overwhelmed Remus, whose raised eyebrow suddenly furrowed on his forehead, and Charlotte sunk her teeth into her lip again.

"You don't live together?"

Charlotte opened her mouth haphazardly, but Remus interrupted her, "Are you alright, Charlie?"

Charlotte followed his downward glance and looked at her trembling hands. Her fingertips had scorched the wooden booth-top, leaving ten tiny black dots. She looked up at him in alarm, and for a moment she could see his younger, smiling face beneath the haggard one facing her now.

No one had called her Charlie in years.

_Charlie, they aren't going to hate you._

_Yes, they are Sirius, I'm a Slytherin, they're Gryffindor. It's a hatred sewn in history._

_They'll love you because I love you._

Her breaths were coming to her like gasps for air, she fisted her hands together and placed them on her lap, but already she felt that familiar sensation washing over her – like pressing a burn to ice.

_See, they loved you._

_Only because they love you, you idiot._

_Well, let's hope they never see me the way you do._

His voice was ringing in her ears like the buzz of a lightbulb, her fingers inadvertently reached to plug them, and her eyes squeezed shut of her own accord.

"Go away," She whispered to herself.

"Charlie?"

She could hear the alarm in Remus's voice, but when she opened her eyes she saw Sirius staring back at her, grinning the way he had that night. The summer before her last year at Hogwarts, when he had snuck her out of Grimmauld Place on his motorbike and taken her to Godric's Hollow.

The lamps in the Leaky Cauldron pub exploded.

Blinking, Charlotte stared up at the sand descending from the lampshades as it landed over the startled, laughing crowd. Tom hastily blamed a particularly liquored wizard who promptly leaned forward and emptied the pitcher of beer he had consumed onto the floor, and suddenly the lamps were repairing themselves.

But Remus was staring at her with the expression she had come to know – fear.

"I'm really tired, Remus," she whispered, "I think I'll head up to bed."

Remus stared at her, "Are you alright?"

"Just tired," she slipped from the booth and gathered her books in her arms, carefully avoiding a large piece of glass that zoomed up to repair above her, "I'll see you again sometime?"

"Sure, I come here most weekends. I'd like to catch up more next time."

Charlotte made a mental note to never leave her room on the weekends as she leaned forward to hug the wiry wizard, "Sure Remus."

She made a hasty escape.

Dumbledore had warned her that limiting her magic usage was dangerous.

He had talked long and hard at her about the precautions she must take. That suppressing too much magic for too long could have disastrous consequences.

Charlotte tried to recall the last time she had done magic more complicated than what they were taught in the first two years of Hogwarts.

She couldn't remember.

Throwing objects from her trunk, Charlotte brought out a jarred candle. She sat it carefully on the floor and stood, pointing her wand at the cylinder.

"Reducto," she whispered.

It vibrated for a moment, before becoming still.

"Reducto!"

The glass cracked.

"_REDUCTO!_"

The candle burst as Charlotte's eyes began to sting.

A tightening began in her chest, until it had encased her throat and worked its way to her jaw, and she felt hot tears slide down her cheeks.

It had been her magic, after all, that had ruined everything.

Her magic that had caused Regulus to die.

Her magic that had sent Sirius to Azkaban.

Her magic that had trapped her in a marriage that would bring her no joy, no children.

It would bring her _nothing_.

She was better off _being _nothing.

* * *

There's Chapter Two for you all! Thank you for the wonderful reviews, they give me the urge to do cartwheels.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello, lovelies! Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews. They make my fingers type so much faster. This one is a bit longer, so I hope you enjoy. Here is Chapter 3!

* * *

_Smoke filled the night sky, and Charlotte's breaths came to her in gasps. _

_ She knew better than to run into the house, to grab Bibsy, or to grab her photograph albums, or to snatch her husband's pocket watch. _

_ Instead, she stood on the sidewalk lost in the sea of black cloaks and silver masks, to watch her house burn. _

_ Her forearm ached from its fresh branding, but Charlotte welcomed the pain. _

_ Regulus was dead. _

_"Now, you will be part of this family, Fraser," a whisper haunted behind her, "Forever." _

_ Charlotte shuddered. _

_ For a moment, she regretted her choice. She found herself filled to the brim with doubt. It had been so simple to allow the promise to slip from her lips. _

I will take his place.

_ Perhaps it would have been less painful to simply die. She would not be standing on the sidewalk in London watching everything she had painstakingly worked for turn to ash. She would not hear the sudden scream of her house elf as Bibsy caught fire. Her arm wouldn't hurt with the ugly tattoo it now brandished. _

_ Perhaps Charlotte was not as calculating as she had thought previously._

_ Perhaps she was simply stupid. _

Charlotte woke with the smell of soot in her nostrils.

Carefully, she took her wand from the nightstand and killed the fire that had started in the night, leaving her sweat-soaked and sticky.

After that night, Charlotte had decided she needed to be more cunning. She had sought mentors within her ranks to verse her on what she would need to equip herself with. Dueling, she had learned from Regulus and Sirius during her time at Hogwarts. But it had been Severus who had taught her to lock her mind from prying eyes.

Lest they see the largest secret she had ever burdened herself with.

Nothing had survived the fire but a glass paperweight that she had given Regulus when he accepted his position at the Ministry of Magic after graduation. It was a pretty thing, a pale green glass shot through with emerald-green serpents and genuine ruby eyes. She had recalled wanting through the sooty pile, hidden by muggles after Louisa had cast her charms over the rubble, and stumbling across it, gleaming up at her through a pile of ash.

For a week Charlotte had carried it in her pocket – a heavy reminder of her choice.

Now, she stared at it on the nightstand, and regretted every moment.

Through Severus, Charlotte had become an exceptional Death Eater. Though she would never be as accomplished of a duelist as her dead husband, Severus ensured she was the most versed witch in curses the Dark Lord had ever encountered.

Charlotte had become one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters.

She had made up for Regulus.

Snape had taught her how to be an efficient killer.

Rolling over across the quilted bed, Charlotte turned her eyes away from Regulus' paperweight which seemed to follow her every glance, to the window.

She hadn't left her rooms in nearly a week.

Diagon Alley was bustling with students, reuniting after their brief separation at Fortescue's ice cream parlor, or giggling as they linked arms and hurried into shops. Charlotte could remember her own reunions when she went to Diagon Alley with the Blacks, shopping for her school things and running into Louisa, or Wilhemina.

Wilhemina, who was dead.

Charlotte pressed her fingers to her temples and willed the thoughts to go away. At night, she would be plagued with memories that replayed over and over. But during the day, Charlotte wanted just a few hours of peace.

She had earned that, hadn't she?

Every time her eyes caught sight of the fading Dark Mark on her forearm, she flinched.

In stark contrast to her pale, rosy skin still slick from the night spent with a roaring fire, the Dark Mark remained immobile, its skull staring up at her with a devilish grin.

Charlotte pulled down her sleeves.

Sliding from the damp sheets, she wandered across the room and began picking up the books that had fallen from the fireplace mantle in the night and cleaning up a few pieces of laundry she had neglected to place in the hamper.

Perhaps today she would leave her room.

The humiliation to have had such an outburst in front of – of all people – Remus Lupin, had locked her into her rooms and she had satisfied herself by reading the selection of smutty fiction novels she had picked up over the previous summer. She had read the last one three times, reveling in the romance hidden in words carefully printed on parchment.

But now, Charlotte was out of books, and glancing around the room from which she had vehemently denied entry to anyone in the last week, Charlotte decided she could survive a trip to Flourish & Blott's while housekeeping tidied her week of dirty dishes and changed the bedsheets.

After showering, Charlotte slipped into a pair of loose-fitting trousers and her favorite blouse. She paused at the door.

Her breath felt hot in her mouth as her fingers touched the door knob, and Charlotte recalled the sensation. It was like her very first kill, the sudden urge to run from it but the underlying need had always reigned supreme. Three years ago, it had been her life. Now, it was a book.

Charlotte wanted to laugh from the incredulousness of it.

Turning the doorknob, she hastily stepped out of the door and glanced down the hallway.

Charlotte did not respond to Tom's happy wishes of a good morning but scurried through the pub into the busy alleyway outside and breathed a breath of fresh, London area.

The alleyway was still bustling, and no one paid her any mind as she let her nose drink in the syrupy smell of popsicles being sold by a vendor down the street, or the wafting fumes from the apothecary that reminded her of her brooding husband. She let her feet wander, glancing at carts filled with counterfeit wares and baubles.

But Charlotte was on a mission – she had to remind herself mid-transaction with a vendor selling lavender lemonade – to restock her book collection. Sipping her herbaceous lemonade, Charlotte veered into Flourish & Blott's and made her way upstairs to the fiction section that so many witches wandered haphazardly into.

Charlotte wanted a smutty novel that would satisfy her last year and a half of celibacy in under three hundred pages.

She filled her basket with paperback tomes and did not color a single shade as Barnaby Blott read the titles of her purchases with eyes that grew larger and larger. She was exceptionally proud of herself, she decided as she glanced down to her canvas tote filled with smut, that she had not broken down in tears with the absolute ridiculousness of life.

No, instead Charlotte wandered to a familiar place with feet that had little connection to her numbed mind, down an alleyway that went from bright and cheerful to dark and soot-streaked. They side-stepped hunchback witches and wizards with wooden eyes, and before Charlotte had finished her exceptionally large lavender lemonade, she was standing outside of an unfamiliar storefront of a very familiar place.

Charlotte's father had been the last of a long legacy of shopkeepers. They had just one singular store, Fraser's Apothecary, in Knockturn Alley.

When her parents had been killed in 1975 – a bombing – Charlotte had never thought to wonder what had happened to her father's store in Knockturn Alley. She recalled at some point Walburga mentioning that they had closed it and would leave it to Charlotte. But Charlotte had never given the store much thought.

Standing outside of it now, looking through its broken window at its looted innards, Charlotte felt suddenly sad.

She had been in Charms when Professor Dumbledore came with Professor Slughorn to pull her from class and tell her that her parents had been killed by muggles. Charlotte recalled how suddenly muggles – who before had been so very harmless – were now so incredibly dangerous. It had caused some of the largest – and the final – argument between her and Sirius. Because as much as Charlotte would have liked to pretend otherwise, and often did so, she was stone-cold terrified of muggles.

Sirius had never quite understood it. It had been a fluke, he argued, that had left her parents blown up into pieces in Scotland. Most muggles were perfectly harmless. But Charlotte could not be convinced. Every muggle paper she purchased showed that muggles loved to kill their own – they robbed them at gunpoint and blew up pubs and railway stations, they kidnapped children and raped their women. And as the years went on, Charlotte had gone from mild fear to full-blown terror.

Then, Sirius had bought the flat in muggle London with Alphard's money.

He had promised her a safe home away from his mother's demands – away from the rivalry of their school Houses – and had tried to put her into the den of lions.

Charlotte took the last large gulp of her lemonade and discarded the cup.

The sign, which she recalled from childhood being green and bronze, hung haphazardly from one ring, blowing in the light summer breeze. Most of the paint had rubbed away in the last eight years, leaving just the 'F' and 'S' of Fraser legible, and only the 'C' in Apothecary. Charlotte recalled her mother planting butterfly bushes in the old whiskey barrel planters out front, and carefully arranging lavender and sage in window boxes.

Now the window boxes and whiskey barrels were gone, leaving nothing but rusted spots from their hardware on the stone window sills and street before the store. Its windows were broken, and old editions of the Daily Prophet had been taped up in their place.

Most of Charlotte's childhood had been spent in the apothecary, and now she could hardly recognize it.

She wondered what had happened to the pair of elves her father had taken into the shop to keep up after it, and if they still lived there.

Reaching out, she nearly touched the doorknob, before a familiar sensation began to creep from her fingertips to her wrists.

_Ice on a burn._

She snapped her fingers back as though shocked, and quickly stepped away from the storefront, staring up at the empty windows that were the flat above it, feeling her body beginning to shake.

From the alleyway, witches and wizards began to veer from her. Her legs trembled beneath her, and she pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on her pulse, but it raced beneath her fingertips too fast for her to count from behind her gasping breaths.

Someone would recognize her here.

Charlotte's eyes snapped up, the whites rolling as she stared down Knockturn Alley, looking for familiar faces.

She should not have come here.

Swallowing the urge to vomit, Charlotte hurriedly stepped forward and grasped the knob of the storefront door and hurried inside. It was better, she thought, to have a fit in here than to have a fit amidst the faces of her former comrades.

Charlotte was sweating, and she peeled off her blouse to stand in her long-sleeved undershirt before bunching the sleeves up to her elbows. She dropped her bag on the dusty wooden floorboards and fanned herself with her hands – each gesture bringing the devilish grin of her Dark Mark closer and closer.

When Regulus had died, the Dark Lord had come to seek his revenge.

Charlotte had never known exactly what Regulus had done to incite such benevolence in their master, but she had hastily sought to put the flames of revenge out. She had promised herself to him as payment for her husband's betrayal. Sirius had not particularly cared, she could barely recall him making much of a presence at all at Regulus' overdramatic funeral planned by Walburga.

No, Sirius had only cared about the mark on her arm, that had labeled her an enemy.

Hot tears slid down Charlotte's cheeks as she looked at the peeling wallpaper of the shop, at the brass register laying broken with missing keys on the floor. She choked back a sob as she picked up a jar still holding the remnants of some ingredient, her fingers sliding the dust off the glass's brass plaque 'Fraser Apothecary'.

The noises that left her mouth did not sound particularly human.

She hugged the jar to her chest as she sank to the dusty floor, staring around at the broken shell that had been the pride of her family. It had been stripped to bare bones, a few broken jars, and a thick layer of dust and soot.

More than anything, Charlotte wanted to go back in time. She wanted to stop her parents from going to some stupid muggle area and urge them to stay home. She wanted to drag herself back from her moments of doubt as she had let fear consume her dream. She wanted to stop herself from walking down that aisle drenched in extravagant floral arrangements that had made her eyes stream and nose run and scream at herself not to do it.

Everything had gone wrong from those moments.

Everything was all wrong.

Charlotte heard the papers rattling against the broken window panes, listened to them slice against the shattered glass. She heard the groan of the shop's shelves as they started to sway with every sob that escaped her lips.

Charlotte wanted everything, and then suddenly – nothing at all.

An eerie hush silenced around her, all but her choking sobs as she let go of the carefully constructed walls Severus had taught her to place in her mind. She heard the locks unclick behind the doors she had memorized, and felt too full, as though her mind was going to burst.

Her whole body felt burned.

She could not help but hear the inhuman screams and wondered if perhaps they were coming from her own mouth as she leaned forward on her knees and pressed her palms into the floorboards.

Everyone was dead now, she remembered.

_Her parents._

_Wilhemina._

_Evan._

_Regulus._

_Bibsy._

_Sirius_.

Everyone she had ever cared about, snuffed like a forgotten candle.

**They were never coming back.**

"Come back," She heard herself wail, "_Please_ come back."

The remnants of Fraser's Apothecary were shaking violently, now, and Charlotte was planted on her hands and knees in the middle of it all.

Feeling everything that she had carefully locked away.

_You will never forget it._

Charlotte dragged herself to her knees, pressing her palms against her ears.

_It will always be there._

"Please, come back to me!"

_And sometimes, it will come out._

Severus had promised her, she recalled as she felt her vision pin-pointing.

He had promised that eventually, even occlumency had its faults.

Dumbledore had called it 'repressed magic'.

But as Charlotte felt her breaths coming in thunderous screams that burned her mouth, she knew there was a different word for it.

**Obscurus.**

* * *

Well, there we go. I know some of you probably figured this bit out and saw it coming. Let me know what you think in the review section. Reviews always make me feel like doing cartwheels.

Side note: if any of you know how to do 'TAB' in this format, I would love you forever. I'm manually spacing all of these out right now and it is a PAIN and never seems to keep by the time I get these posted. Please let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

I am so, so sorry for the late update!

Here is Chapter Four, enjoy!

* * *

In the abyss, it was warm.

Not blistering hot, like the wound she had escaped just moments prior, nor was it frosty.

In the cloud, it was as though she had stepped into a warm bath.

Charlotte opened her eyes to blackness.

"Regulus?"

The name left her lips impulsively, and she reached for hands that grasped her own. Fingers intertwined with hers, palms kissed.

And suddenly the blackness was gone, and all she could see was him.

He looked as though time had untouched him, with his same pale glittering silver-gray eyes and strong cheekbones. His heavy brow and regal nose, his proud lips all remained unchanged.

She released his hands to plummet them onto his chest and grab hold of the same shirt he had worn leaving the house that day, warm ivory with a suit vest, and stared at him with eyes that burned.

"Reg."

He smiled at her and reached his broad hands to tangle themselves in her loosened hair and bring her face forward to rest at his chest.

"Charlie-bell," he murmured into her waves and tears spilled from Charlotte's eyes.

"I've missed you," she sobbed.

"I know, little viper, I know."

"You left me."

"I won't leave you again."

And she knew it to be true there in the darkness, with her first husband's arms wrapped tightly around her, his lips pressed to her hair.

"I'm tired, Reg," she whispered.

Regulus smoothed her hair from her face and brought her away from his warmth, to look down into her eyes. He pressed a kiss tenderly between her brows.

"Then sleep, Charlie-bell," he replied with a smirk.

Oh, how Charlotte had loved that twist of his lips.

"But I don't want to leave you," and there was an edge to her voice that had not been there before, "If I go to sleep, I'll leave you."

A frown took away her favorite expression, and Regulus's brows knit together in a scowl.

"Why would you think that, my love?"

Charlotte swallowed and looked around at the blackness. It was beginning to feel very cold.

"Regulus, I'm cold."

He touched her cheek, and his fingers felt like fire.

"Go to sleep, and it will be over."

She shook her head.

"Go to sleep, Charlie."

"I'm scared, Reg," she suddenly sobbed.

Charlotte wondered if she had ever felt so cold. She could see her breath lingering in the shadows, frosting the air with specks of pewter and silver.

"Go to sleep, I'll be right here."

His voice made her ears burn, and as her eyes lifted up from her own clenched fists, tears streamed from her stinging eyes.

Gone was the creamy skin of her Regulus, replaced with a paper-white specter with hollowed cheeks and black pits of eyes.

"Come to sleep with me, Charlie."

"Regulus, no," she sobbed as she watched his skin stretch across his bones, his hair began to drip with water, the sockets of his eyes filled with algae, "Please, Reg, no."

"It will all be over soon, my love."

"_REGULUS!_"

Her scream echoed in the blackness, and the bloated, watery corpse of Regulus Black was gone, and she was alone in the shadow.

"Come back," she whispered, grasping herself as her skin prickled and goose flesh spread across her bare arms, traveling up her shoulders, "I need you to come back."

She stood alone in the dark.

"Charlie?"

Dread filled Charlotte's stomach.

"Charlie, is that you there, in the dark?"

She covered her mouth, tears spilling unhindered now from her eyes.

"Silly girl, we're going to be late for Potions."

"Willie, go away," Charlotte sobbed, "Please go away."

"But Charlie, if we're late Slughorn will make us polish cauldrons."

Charlotte covered her ears.

"Charlie, didn't you miss me?"

Wilhemina Wilkes stood in front of her, with her long corn silk hair and eyes like the ocean.

"I missed you," Wilhemina pouted, her mouth still painted pink, "I've missed you every day."

"Go away, Willie," Charlotte cried, "You died!"

"Don't be absurd, Charlie," Willie laughed, her voice like birdsong.

Charlotte was shaking her head, palms pressed to her ears, eyes streaming.

"I didn't die, Charlie," Willie giggled, "I was murdered. Because you told him, Charlie."

Willie seized her wrists, dragging down her arms until their chests were pressed together, heaving.

"You told him where I was, Charlie," Willie snarled, her pretty pink mouth twisted in rage.

"I tried to tell you, Willie, I tried with the-!"

"The _floo_, you stupid girl? I married a muggle. You knew I didn't have the _fucking floo _in my house!"

Charlotte sobbed as Willie's ocean blue eyes began to bulge, and the girl released her arms.

Willie clawed at her neck, choking for air, her face began to turn purple.

Charlotte ran to her, fingers prying apart invisible hands. She wept as Willie fell to the dark floor and began to convulse, her legs kicking and stretching.

"I'm sorry, Willie, I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

Ocean blue eyes, bulging, stared back at her.

"_I WANT TO GO HOME!"_

Her scream echoed in the abyss.

Charlotte covered her eyes and began to rock on her heels, weeping.

"Severus, please, come get me," she sobbed softly, "Please bring me home."

She felt exceptionally tired as she laid on the frigid ground alongside the corpse of her school friend, staring at the long strands of corn silk hair.

In fact, she was exhausted. The very breaths she took consumed an insurmountable amount of energy, the sobs that wracked her shoulders made her muscles ache, her back feel brittle.

Perhaps it was a good idea to go to sleep, she thought as she felt her breaths begin to slow.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so very bad to sleep.

Maybe she would dream of a different life. One with a happier ending.

Perchance Sirius would be there, too.

"**Charlotte, it's time to come back now**."

She shook her head.

"**Charlotte, come back.**"

Desperately, she squeezed her eyes.

"Go away, Dumbledore."

Her eyes sprung open.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"**It will be alright, my dear. Come back**."

Tears still streamed from her eyes unhindered, "You can't promise that."

"**No, I cannot. But there are people here who care for you still. Severus, for one**."

"Severus doesn't care about me, Professor," she laughed, smearing tears from her eyes.

"**I think you will be most surprised, Charlotte. Now come back**."

"I don't know how," She whimpered.

"**Just remember where you were, Charlotte**."

She pictured the wooden floorboards of her father's apothecary, and how they had felt hot in the summer heat, how the dust had hovered in the air. She could recall the way a brass register had fallen with broken keys spilled across the floor.

"There we go, my dear."

Charlotte could smell the dust and old parchment, could feel the summer heat beneath her body. She could hear the sounds of popping embers, shifting timbers, and crunching glass.

"Open your eyes, Charlotte."

Her eyes opened and she looked at the blackened floor beneath her sooty fingers, before she lifted her eyes up at the night sky.

Alarm shifted her and she looked around wildly, sitting up and feeling ash and dust gather in her hands as she stared at a charred shell of her father's apothecary.

The walls were torched, still glowing with dying embers that floated to the night sky like fire bugs. The brass register she had pictured so perfectly in her mind had exploded; keys still embedded in what remained of the shop's walls.

"What have I done?" she whispered in horror.

"Move out of my way, Fletcher," snarled a familiar voice, "Or I will curse you."

Charlotte felt a warm hand seize her elbow and drag her to her feet. She was immediately crushed into a hot, firm torso and arms squeezed her own.

"Charlie," Remus Lupin whispered fiercely, "Are you alright?"

"What did I do?"

He pulled her away from him to stare at her face, "Charlotte, why didn't you tell me?"

"What have I done?" she repeated.

"Nearly three years ago, Charlotte, I warned that repressing your magic would have consequences."

She saw Albus stepping over a singed beam of what had once been part of the ceiling.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that they have been quite catastrophic."

Albus smiled at her, and Charlotte looked around to see other figures approaching out of the night.

"Severus," Albus called, "Please escort Mr. Lupin and your wife to The Burrow, please."

"I would like to take Charlotte to my home, headmaster," Severus was now standing beside Albus.

Severus was staring at her, and she watched his glance shift to the hands gripping her elbows like vices.

Charlotte doubted she could have stood without them. Her ears were ringing, and Remus, Albus, and Severus shifted in and out of focus as though bobbing in a camera lens.

"Molly is expecting you, Severus."

"Headmaster, I must insist-!" Severus's voice began to turn heated.

"And I am afraid that Spinner's End, surrounded by muggles, is not what is best for Mrs. Snape now, Severus. Please escort her and Mr. Lupin to the Burrow."

Severus's nostrils flared, but he stepped forward.

Charlotte's husband seemed almost hesitant to touch her, but he smacked aside Remus's hand and gripped her elbow with a firm, but tender hold. He glanced up at Remus and raised a single brow.

"Do you intend to also use me for my apparition abilities, werewolf, or are you still capable?"

Lupin scowled and stepped away, but he looked to Charlotte quickly.

"I'll see you there, Charlie."

Severus turned her to face him.

"Severus, I'm confused."

"Silence."

Charlotte's mouth snapped shut as she felt a familiar tug and pull at her belly button.

When she opened her eyes, the air was cooler.

The sound of crickets chirping filled the marshy ground around them and Charlotte felt the water begin to slowly seep into her shoes.

"Where are we?"

Severus was still gripping her elbow as he began to walk.

"Severus, please," she breathed, feeling herself teeter on her feet.

He stopped abruptly and turned to her, his nostrils flaring.

Charlotte hated when he did that.

"At no point in time did you determine that it would be minutely important to discuss this with me?"

She blinked.

"At no point did it cross your mind that you might divulge this to me?"

She opened her mouth and he quickly rose a hand to stop her.

"I agreed, Charlotte, to be your husband at Albus's behest. I agreed to be your husband through health and _sickness_. But you are more of an expert on marriage than me, seeing as this is your second go-around. So please, _wife_, explain to me why you suddenly trust me so little that you would not discuss with me that you are a _fucking obscurial_."

"Severus."

His chest heaved and his eyes narrowed, "I saved your fucking life, Fraser. Do you think it is remotely appropriate for you to throw away what little mercy I am capable of?"

Another pair of feet were sloshing through the marsh, from a house in the distance.

It looked crooked, she noted, trying to see through the tall grass, and ignore the heavy, infuriated breathing of her husband.

"I think that's enough for now, Severus."

Severus turned to look as Remus Lupin pushed his way through the weeds.

"Apparated awfully far from the house, didn't you, Severus?"

"I need a moment with my wife."

"I think it's best for you to wait until Dumbledore arrives."

Severus sneered, "I'm not concerned with what you think is best, Lupin."

"Your wife is about to fall over on her feet. She was not ten minutes ago destroying half of Knockturn Alley in an obscurus form. I suggest that you wait until Dumbledore arrives so that she does not drown in this marsh, Severus, and she has a cup of tea."

"I did what?"

Charlotte's voice left her in a breath, her eyes widening. She had begun to sway more on her feet, her knees knocking together in the chilled summer air.

"You weren't yourself. Charlie, come on, let's get you a cup of tea. Molly has the kettle on."

Remus held a hand out, and Snape seemed to stare at her, daring her to take it.

Too much seemed to have stuffed itself in her head.

"I don't feel so good," She whispered.

Severus caught her by the wrist as she tipped forward, yanking her back into his chest.

A toned arm caught her behind the knees and lifted her up as her eyes began to flutter.

"I've got her," Severus snarled to Remus who had reached out a hand, "Move aside, wolf."

Remus sighed.

Severus's feet squished in the watery mud of the marsh as he began walking to the house. Charlotte bumped his chest with every step, her eyelids began to droop.

"Severus, I'm tired."

"Then go to sleep," he retorted hotly, "I'll wake you when Albus arrives."

"I'm scared," she whispered.

Severus seemed to slow his steps, "Why are you scared?"

"What if they come back?"

He stopped, "Who comes back?"

Charlotte felt very heavy in his arms; her eyelids felt like lead. Even her voice sounded as though it were treading through the same mud they were.

"Regulus," she slurred, "And Willie."

"Regulus and Willie are gone, Charlotte," Severus whispered softy, "They're dead."

Charlotte was very tired, and very warm tucked against his chest.

"They were there, in the dark."

She felt his arms tighten around her as he began walking again, and the slow swaying against his chest resumed.

"Not anymore."

* * *

Chapter Four is DONE. I was in the midst of finals for my classes and this took quite some time to put together. I was always curious about what happened when an obscurial took on their obscurus form, and I think this was the best version of what I pictured. Obscurials are tortured by repressing their magic, so I thought a little peak into why Charlotte has been repressing her magic would be the most likely scenario. Please let me know what you thought in the comments and I PROMISE to have another chapter uploaded this week! Reviews, as always, make me do cartwheels.


	5. Chapter 5

When Charlotte awoke, she was tucked in on an orange pin-striped couch with a heavy-knit blanket snuggly wrapped around her. A redhaired boy stared at her with bottle-blue eyes from where he had been deposited on a spun rug near her feet.

"Hello, there," her voice croaked.

The boy began to wail.

Quickly, Charlotte sat up and felt her head spin. She pressed fingertips to her temples and felt the throb of her head pulsate beneath them.

"Oh, Ronald," a maternal voice cooed, "It's just our new friend Charlotte."

Her eyes opened and she was greeted with a warm, cheerful grin.

The woman before her quickly scooped up the wailing child and placed him on her hip. She wore her medium-length copper hair tied up in a messy semblance of a bun, and her blue eyes crinkled at the corners with the ease of a well-used smile.

"Hello, dear. I'm Molly – Molly Weasley. This is Ronald. Sorry, he's a bit jumpy."

Charlotte tried to remember how to smile behind the thunderous roar of her head, "Charlotte – Charlotte Snape."

"Welcome to our home, can I fetch you a cup of tea?"

"I'm so sorry to impose on you," Charlotte tried to stand and felt a hand firmly push her back into the couch.

She looked up at the suddenly no-nonsense face above her, "Strict orders from Dumbledore, I'm afraid, to keep you right here. Now, I've been told you'll have a headache, so I have a draught all fixed up for you. How do you take your tea?"

Charlotte blinked, "Two sugars, please."

A mismatched tea cup and saucer were handed to her, an oversized ginger biscuit hanging off the saucer's lip.

"Now just stay right here," Molly pointed a finger at the sofa, "And I'll be right back."

She tottered off with the child on her hip and Charlotte tried to grasp her surroundings.

Charlotte was in a well-worn living room littered with children's toys. A knitting basket rested near her feet, and Charlotte quickly took off her muddy shoes. She briefly wondered where her wand had ended up as she blew carefully on her tea, taking in the sweet smell of a well-sugared oolong.

Molly had well-disguised the potion in her tea, and Charlotte already felt the pounding behind her temples begin to subside.

When she returned, Molly came toting a stack of clothing, "Now, I'm sure something in this pile will fit you. It'll be like a tent on you, though, skinny thing you are."

Charlotte looked down to her own clothes. Her trousers were smeared with ashes and mud, her jumper singed to the elbows, and thankfully her blouse seemed to only miss small spots. She followed Molly's eyes as they darted to something on Charlotte's forearm.

The Dark Mark.

Quickly, Charlotte tucked her arm under the blanket, and stared up at the redhead.

"Never mind that, dearest. Pop off into Arthur – that's my husband – his office is just around. Do you need some help?"

Charlotte nodded and the woman quickly righted Charlotte to her feet.

"I'm afraid there will be no mending these, but I'll get your shoes cleaned off for you. I've put a pair of socks in there to keep your toes warm."

Molly beamed at her and pointed at a door down the hall, and Charlotte tip-toed down.

Assessing the damage, Charlotte looked at the blisters on her skin and the large burns that covered her arms and torso. Her legs seemed mostly unharmed but for a few dark, black bruises and a large cut on her calf that she would have to ask someone else to sort for her. She slipped into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved thermal that hung off of her before she tucked her feet into a pair of knitted socks.

Carefully, she folded her soiled clothes and tucked them under her arm.

Confused would be an understatement, she decided.

She wasn't sure why Albus had wanted her taken to the Weasleys – who she briefly recalled from school, though they had been in their final year when Charlotte had been in her first. Molly Prewett's brothers were something of a legend at Hogwarts for their dashing good looks, and for their dueling skills amongst the Death Eaters. Surely, Molly Weasley would not want a Death Eater in her house, considering what had happened to the Prewett boys.

Charlotte hugged her singed clothes to her chest as she left Arthur Weasley's office and headed back down the hall where her cup of tea still sat steaming.

Molly took her clothes from her and popped out of the room before returning with Severus.

"I've told you, Severus, that she's fine."

Severus scowled at Molly and continued into the room before stooping over Charlotte.

His fingers carefully grasped her chin and turned her face back and forth before he snorted.

"Fine, Molly? She looks like a troll got hold of her."

Severus took out his wand and pointed it at her face.

Charlotte flinched.

Instead, Severus softly began speaking incantations and warmth spread across Charlotte's cheek, before it moved down her neck. Severus's wand carefully worked her over, checking all visible spots before he stopped and looked at her in expectation.

"My back, and my leg," she whispered.

Charlotte scooted around and Severus lifted up the back of her borrowed shirt to begin on her back, and Charlotte heard Molly take in a sharp breath.

"Quiet, Molly, they're just curse marks," Severus snapped, "I'll fix the rest of it."

Covering her face, Charlotte buried her face into the crook of her elbow as Severus worked carefully on the burns on her shoulders.

"How's your head?"

Severus spoke quietly.

"Better."

"Any broken bones? Anything not feeling quite right?"

Charlotte shook her head, and kept her face buried.

It was one thing, she supposed, to strip down practically naked in front of a stranger. During her time as a Death Eater, it had not always allowed for things like privacy or decorum. She had needed to change quickly after raids and errands, to burn her bloodied clothes. But the other Death Eaters had been like her – scarred and marked. They hadn't gasped at each other's curse marks or stared at their Dark Marks. After all, if they had, they would have spent an eternity out of breath and gaping.

Charlotte could count the scars on her body and recall each moment of them. The cuts on her back were from Severus's own curse, rebounded in a duel against Alastor Moody. Another, that started at her temple and disappeared in her hairline was from Moody himself. The others, little bits and scrapes were from other raids, other moments of a darker time.

She wished she could be rid of them all.

"Let me have your leg, then."

When Charlotte turned, Molly had disappeared. Severus pulled up the leg of her pants and scowled at the mark on her leg before beginning his work.

"What did I do, Severus?"

Charlotte watched his mouth purse and tighten as he checked her other leg.

"You've become an obscurial," he answered finally, "You did what obscurials do."

"But I'm not dead."

Severus was staring at her now from where he knelt on the rug in front of her.

"No, you are not," he said finally, "But you destroyed three buildings. Thankfully, you wandered far enough off that no one noticed more than they are apt to notice in Knockturn Alley."

Charlotte's eyes began to burn, "My father's apothecary is gone."

Severus sighed, "Albus has sorted it. It's been rectified."

"What's going to happen to me?"

Her husband stared at her, and in a moment, seemed to forget himself as he reached forward and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, "Albus will sort it out."

"Professor Dumbledore is doing a lot of sorting out, Severus," she whimpered, "Are they going to send me to Azkaban?"

His eyes darkened immediately, "No, they will not."

Rolling down her pant legs, he took a moment before he stood. His hand reached out to grasp hers and help her back to her feet.

"Then why am I here?"

"To meet The Order."

Charlotte stopped from where he had begun to lead her, suddenly cemented to the floor.

"The Order, Severus?"

Severus paused, and then scowled, "They are not about to convict you, Charlotte."

"Well they certainly aren't going to declare us best friends and exchange bracelets, Severus."

She heard a snort and watched Remus come around the corner of the hallway.

How many hallways did this house have, anyway, she wondered?

"I'll exchange bracelets with you, Charlie," he grinned.

"Well, I didn't try to kill _you_," She mumbled, "Intentionally, anyway."

Hoping that he had not heard the last bit, Charlotte allowed herself to take Remus's outstretched hand and follow him into a bustling kitchen. A long, wooden table sat in the middle surrounded by mismatched benches.

First, she noted Albus Dumbledore sitting at the head of the table. Other faces were familiar – Alastor Moody, the man Remus had called Fletcher, Molly and Arthur Weasley, and other faces that she briefly recalled from either Hogwarts or raids in Diagon Alley. Not all of them looked especially friendly, either, she noted.

"Hello, Charlotte," Albus said as he set down a cup of tea, "How are you feeling?"

"Confused," she whispered, standing still in the doorway.

Remus tugged her across the room to a free bench, and Severus chose to stand in the doorway, leaning with his armed crossed against the wall. He looked especially annoyed.

"This is what remains of the Order of the Phoenix, Charlotte," Albus was still smiling, "I'm sure you have heard of them."

Charlotte looked down the table and noted that only Molly Weasley and another especially young-looking girl seemed to be smiling at her. Alastor Moody, in particular, seemed especially hostile in his stare.

"Now, Charlotte," her former headmaster began, "Please tell me what happened."

She was unsure of where to begin, and so she began at the beginning of her day. As she spoke, she noted the hostile faces surrounding her began to soften, their eyes turning from angered to bewildered – perhaps a few looked a bit frightened.

"You saw Regulus Black and Wilhemina Wilkes," Remus Lupin murmured, "But they're dead, Charlotte."

"I know that," she replied hotly, "but they were there. I felt them. They were there."

Albus had watched her in silence, occasionally reaching for his cup of tea and a dish of what Charlotte noted appeared to be treacle fudge. Now he set his cup down and leaned forward.

"Charlotte, why do you think you saw Regulus Black and Wilhemina Wilkes while you were in your obscurial state?"

Truthfully, Charlotte did not want to know. She had done her best to think of other things since she awoke on the floor of her father's charred apothecary.

"When was the last time you performed any advanced magic?"

"Advanced?"

"Let us consider your magical education beyond third year," Albus was no longer smiling.

Charlotte tried to remember.

"Second year?"

She began to feel her palms sweat as faces turned to look at her in shock, and she focused on trying to recall the last time she had used any advanced magic at all.

"A cleaning spell, at Severus's."

"A first-year task, Charlotte."

Charlotte's face was heating, and she noted that the tea cup set in front of her by Molly had begun to tremble.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Charlotte."

The tea cup stilled as she looked up at him.

Her eyes were burning, and her hands trembled on her lap. More now than ever, she wished she could apparate away somewhere – anywhere, really, and be alone.

"I killed her, Professor," She whispered and felt tears well up at her eyelids, "I killed Wilhemina."

Albus was watching her carefully, and Charlotte felt a hand begin rubbing circles on her back.

"Wilhemina Wilkes was strangled by her brother, if I recall, Charlotte."

She looked up at him, suddenly angry, "I told William where he could find her, Dumbledore. I told him where she had gone!"

No one moved at the table, but their eyes watched her carefully.

"She'd gone off and married a muggle – and she had moved to some muggle village – and he was asking for her. He said," she was sobbing now, "He said he wanted to make amends with her."

"Then how is it you're to blame?"

"I should've warned her. I knew they hadn't likely gotten the floo. I should've apparated – but the Dark Lord – the Dark Lord wanted me to do something, and I couldn't just leave."

"Because he would have killed you, Charlotte."

Charlotte heard a high-pitched whine fill her chest as she sobbed, "She was my friend."

"Charlotte, Voldemort would have killed you. From what Severus has disclosed to me over the last several years, you agreed to become a Death Eater in payment for Regulus betraying him. You entered a mode of survival."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, "Do you think I had another option?"

Albus smiled softly at her, his eyes suddenly sad, "No, dear girl, I don't believe you did."

He took a long sip of his tea and looked around the table, "Repressed magic is something we have not witnessed to this degree in decades, my friends. I believe the muggles have a coined term for it, post-traumatic stress. I have brought Mrs. Snape here not for your forgiveness for her acts in service to Voldemort."

"Then why did you bring her here, Albus?" snorted Moody.

"Because the Dark Mark has never faded from those branded with it. I have long surmised that this means that one day, Voldemort will attempt to return. Grindelwald, before him, had a desperate curiosity of obscurials, because of the power many of you witnessed tonight."

Charlotte felt her skin grow cold.

Her desperate eyes looked to Severus, who was coolly contemplating his own cup of tea.

"I do not doubt that Voldemort will seek his former servants when he returns. It is vital that we do not allow Mrs. Snape's condition to become a weapon in his hands."

Albus sat back as a torrent of retorts spilled out of the mouths of the Order members.

"Obscurials die, Albus, I'm not sure what else we can do."

"You don't think that the people who witnessed tonight will keep that bit to themselves?"

"What do you expect us to accomplish?"

"She's likely to be this way permanently."

At the last words, Albus rose a hand, "I believe that obscurials can recover from their affliction, though I am sure many would disagree with me. An obscurial can possibly be healed by replacing their feelings of alienation, which ultimately lead to the creation of their obscurus, with a sense of belonging."

Charlotte could no longer hear them.

Her ears were roaring.

_Voldemort will attempt to return_.

"Severus," she whispered, turning eyes to him, "Severus."

Her husband turned his dark eyes towards her.

"We need to leave."

The table fell silent, and all eyes turned on to her.

"Severus, we need to leave, _now_."

"Charlotte?"

Remus' face was incredulous, "What do you mean?"

"If he finds out we were ever here, Severus," her voice was still only a whisper, "He will kill us."

Severus watched her as she began to fidget, pulling the sleeves of her thermal shirt up to her thumbs. She was glancing down the table, her ears still roaring above the onslaught of discussion around her, the hushed promises of protection.

"You will hide your mind from him, Charlotte, and join the Order as I did."

"You can hide nothing from the Dark Lord, Severus."

"I believe that you are capable. You are a skilled Occlumens."

"If you will not leave with me, Severus, I will go alone."

His eyes narrowed, "And where will you go?"

Charlotte knew what happened to those who betrayed the Dark Lord. She had watched everything she had ever owned go up in smoke the day his judgement fell for Regulus' actions. She had plead on the sidewalk in her nightgown, hands pressed to the cement to beg for his mercy.

Voldemort had granted it, but only for her life.

But Severus was right, she mulled over in her thoughts as Molly freshened her pot of tea and rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Charlotte had lost all of her friends in the war. If Dumbledore was right and the Dark Lord was, at some point, going to return, it only could stand for the assumption that her former comrades would have little qualm about handing her in for their own skins.

Except for one.

Augustus Rookwood had claimed during his trials to be under the Imperius Curse, which had led to him entering the ranks of Death Eaters and committing atrocious acts. If Charlotte's memory served her correctly, and that at least she was still confident in, Rookwood had named Bellatrix Lestrange as his attacker.

Bellatrix Lestrange, however, was now in Azkaban. But if Dumbledore was to be taken seriously, Charlotte doubted that Voldemort would allow his most loyal servant to rot away under the care of the dementors. He would unleash her, and she would hunt for Rookwood. Bellatrix had never been renowned for allowing anyone who crossed her to get away with it.

But Bella had always loved Charlotte. As much as the sociopath was capable, anyway.

They could strike a deal.

It would take a few days, she reasoned, to get a hold of Augustus. He was a Secret Keeper for the Ministry of Magic, and Charlotte doubted that he was home very often. There would be a few road blocks she would need to overcome.

As she was handed a coin stamped with a Phoenix, Charlotte was still thinking above the careful conversation being held around her.

Somewhere, Charlotte was advised her things had been sent to Spinner's End. The house had been fitted with precautionary spells and charms to protect the muggles in residence, and she would remain there until Severus returned to Hogwarts.

A member of the Order would come to help her each day to work on her magic.

_Augustus has a home in Boston._

Severus would brew her calming draughts for the evening.

_She could blackmail him into allowing her to stay there._

Remus promised to write to her.

_Threatening anyone with Bellatrix had a way of working its own kind of magic._

Dumbledore was staring at her, and Charlotte carefully steeled her mind. There was a twinkle in his eye, and Charlotte swallowed as Severus took her arm to apparate them back to his home.

"Charlotte?"

Severus hesitated and turned to her.

"Be brave, Charlotte. I know you are capable."

Charlotte stared at her former headmaster.

_Bravery was for Gryffindors._

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And there we have Chapter Five! Thank you all for the lovely reviews. I've had a lot on my plate recently but I promise the chapters will be posted more regularly from this point. I'll have the next one up by Friday! :)

Please let me know what you thought of C5 in the review section!


	6. Chapter 6

All of you are wonderful, and your reviews this week have cheered me up immensely! Please enjoy Chapter Six!

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Charlotte had not heard the door close behind her before Severus had a vice-like grip on her wrist and was dragging her up the stairs.

She protested as his fingernails dug into her skin, but the broad-shouldered wizard was unmoved. He opened the door to their guest bedroom and shoved her inside haphazardly. She stumbled and landed sprawled across the bed.

Righting herself, she turned to open her mouth in protest when Severus held a hand up, his nostrils flaring.

"Rookwood, Charlotte?"

Charlotte's mouth clicked shut.

"After months of instructing you in occlumency, I expected you to learn that there is no time in which someone will not attempt to gain entry to your thoughts. I doubt a single member of the Order doesn't know about your plan to blackmail Rookwood with Bellatrix and run away to Boston."

Severus Snape was capable of being incredibly frightening when he chose to be.

He paced in the room, throwing his broad hands into his long hair and took shaking breaths.

"Dumbledore can't keep us safe, Severus," she hissed.

His dark eyes were upon her, "No, Charlotte, he cannot."

"Dumbledore can merely keep us under watch," Severus's voice had grown calmer, "But he cannot protect us. There are other things in place which will prevent him from doing so."

"What other things?"

Severus remained silent.

"You told them about me. About the magic."

"I did."

Startled, Charlotte stood, "Why would you tell them?"

"Obscurials are dangerous, Charlotte. There is a reason Grindelwald was fascinated by them."

Charlotte's hands fisted together, "I know it's dangerous."

"And yet at no moment were you so inclined to discuss this with me?"

"When was I supposed to do that, Snape? Over the many letters we don't exchange while you're at Hogwarts, or the hours of time we spend together when you come back?"

This time, Severus fell silent, his jaw clenched.

"You don't even ask for me to check in. We might be married, but there is nothing marital about our relationship. I give you precisely what you asked for – no inclination that I lived here, zero expectations that this will develop beyond our relationship, and absolute fucking celibacy."

Her breaths were coming hotly now, "I've done precisely what _you've_ asked of _me_."

"And I have not?"

"Why did you agree to this?"

Severus stared at her.

"There's nothing in it for you. There's no gold or properties, businesses or status. You don't ask for anything from me. I can see where the benefit of it for me was – I needed a fucking babysitter, evidently – but what was the benefit for you?"

"I agreed to the arrangement as it was made by Dumbledore."

"_DUMBLEDORE_. You and fucking Dumbledore, plotting away somewhere. You told them to watch me. You told them there was something wrong with me. Don't you dare try to lie to me, Severus, because as broken and as irreparable as my occlumency may be to you, I assure you I am still a fucking legilimens."

"You dare threaten me?"

Severus began to take slow, measured steps towards her, "You will not threaten me in my house."

"Then you will tell me, Severus. Tell me what was so fucking appealing about being married to me? Was it some pact you made with Regulus?"

Severus's face was darkening as he walked towards her, and Charlotte found herself backing up until her knees hit the bedframe.

"We weren't close in school," she continued, but her voice was wavering, "It's not like we were friends."

She sat on the bed as Severus loomed over her, his eyes thin slits of rage.

"You will not question me, _wife_," he whispered, and his voice was like soft thunder.

"Then let me go! Let me go to Boston!"

Severus gripped her chin, "You will not leave this house."

His fingers were hard, and his eyes did not waver.

But Charlotte had never been especially tactful, and a sick feeling had filled the pit of her stomach.

When Dumbledore had suggested she marry Severus, Charlotte had assumed that it was because Severus had lost all of his money to the Ministry of Magic after his trials. Charlotte had still had a sizable inheritance and would stand to assume what was left of the Black vaults in Gringott's. She had made the assumption that at some point, Severus would need financial assistance. But when he had never asked for it, her mind had wandered elsewhere.

But Severus had never been interested in any form of intimacy. He never seemed to notice whether or not she cleaned the house on Spinner's End, and he requested no other favors of her. In the end, Charlotte had decided that perhaps Dumbledore had simply wanted an eye kept on her for her actions in the war, and with Severus working at Hogwarts, it was a perfect opportunity. She thought that perhaps Dumbledore had struck a bargain with Severus in convincing him to marry her.

Now, Charlotte felt ill.

Severus was still a professor of potions, when everyone knew that he wanted the position in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Clearly, that had not been any motivation on Snape's part.

No, the only logical purpose could be the one that had made bile begin to fill her throat.

Severus had always hated him, after all.

"It was Sirius, wasn't it?"

When his eyes flickered, Charlotte found her lips twisting.

"You married me to get back at Sirius?"

She stood, roughly shoving him away from her, "_You married me to get back at fucking Sirius_?"

The bedside lamp exploded.

"Of course, I should've known. All those raids, all those fucking nights you were helping me. You wanted him to find out, didn't you?"

"Do not presume to tell me what motivated my actions."

Charlotte twisted away from him, walking towards the door.

"You will not leave this house, Charlotte."

"You married me as a sick joke to get back at Sirius. What did you expect? Did you send him an invitation to our Ministry office wedding? I'm sure the dementors love to deliver wedding invitations."

"Charlotte, calm yourself."

"I am perfectly fucking _calm_."

It would stand to make sense that Severus had married her to get back at Sirius. After all, their whirlwind of a romance had caused plenty of controversy at Hogwarts. Very few people had been pleased that Sirius, a Gryffindor, had linked himself to Charlotte, a Slytherin. The only people who had been even remotely pleased with the development were those who assumed Charlotte could convince Sirius to come back to his pureblood roots and do away with his newfound friends.

Severus had certainly received a brute amount of torture at the hands of Sirius.

"I am not going to discuss this with you further."

Standing, Severus moved towards the door and Charlotte seized his shoulder.

In moments, she was inside of his head.

Images raced behind her eyes.

When Severus seized her wrist and severed their connection, his face was contorted in rage.

"Go to bed, now."

"Severus, I'm sorry."

Her eyes were burning from the images, and she felt more nauseated from what she had seen than her own feelings of rage.

"Go to bed," he snarled, and slammed the door behind him.

As Charlotte slipped between the sheets of the guest bed, she heard objects shattering downstairs.

She pictured him moving through the kitchen as she heard cabinets slamming open and moving for the bottle of firewhiskey. She envisioned him pouring a large glass before moving to his arm chair before the fireplace.

Charlotte had known that Sirius was cruel to Severus. During her lessons in occlumency, Severus had chosen to train her in Legilimency as well. It was only rational that every once in a while, her teacher would slip up and she would end somewhere inside of his mind.

She had known about the incident with Lily Evans, and throughout her time with Severus, she had learned that the wizard had loved her immensely. There had been snippets of them as children, playing at the park; there had been visions of them sitting beside the lake at Hogwarts, studying together.

Sirius, Severus, and their lot had been a year ahead of Charlotte. She hadn't had much to do with Severus at school, other than occasionally seeking his help for a paper in Potions. He had been more of Regulus' friend, though even that was a leap.

But what she had seen tonight made her feel ill.

Despite having grown up with the Black boys, Charlotte never knew how much cruelty Sirius was capable of until just moments ago.

Charlotte had seen him urging Severus to risk his life, and she knew that Sirius was not foolish enough to be unaware of the danger. A fifth year against a werewolf, however capable Severus may have been, was no laughing matter. If James had not arrived, Severus would be dead.

She had seen other fleeting memories. Sirius practicing charms on Severus to make his nose grow, flaunting the other witches he had dated in the Great Hall, even making a show – unbeknownst to her – of having Charlotte sitting on his lap in the library. Each moment had been categorically created, she realized, to ensure that Severus was aware of how totally isolated he really was.

Wrapping her arms around her torso as the destruction downstairs resumed once more, Charlotte let out a shuddering breath.

Charlotte had loved Sirius, perhaps a bit blindly. He had made every flaw she had ever noticed of herself turn into something to beautiful. Not a day went by that he hadn't attempted to lift her spirits in some way, and every first she had belonged to him. In her mind, Sirius had always been the savior.

Now, that image was muddied.

She had loved Sirius for his kindness and his unwavering sense of righteousness. From every recollection she had, Sirius had always tried to do the right thing.

But Sirius had tried to, albeit indirectly, kill Severus. Simply because he disliked him.

There had been no purpose to Sirius's hatred of Snape – there was no particular moment or grudge to be held. It was blind dislike. Perhaps it was because of the way Snape looked, or how well he had done in school, or simply that he was a Slytherin. But beneath all the fabricated reasons she could think of, none of them justified the attempted murder of a schoolmate simply because he was there.

Charlotte had killed during the war.

Though she had always justified it in her mind as orders by the Dark Lord. There had been no blind murder; every killing curse that had left her wand had been at the instruction of her master. She had, for years, allowed this thought to comfort her. She was no Bellatrix, after all, she had reasoned.

But Sirius had no reason at all.

Carefully, as the violence beneath her stilled, Charlotte slipped from the bedsheets.

She silently moved through the house, descending the stairs as her eyes burned.

Charlotte had never been bullied in school. With Regulus in Slytherin, and Sirius in Gryffindor, no one had dared to cross the Black brothers by bullying her. She had been a short, tiny girl with thick glasses and two frizzy braids until Walburga had gotten her hands on her in the third year. The opportunities to tease her had been perhaps endless.

Though Walburga had solved the need for glasses and had introduced Charlotte to hair care, eventually she had grown and developed as all women eventually do. She supposed she had been a bit of a catch, considering the other options. Though she was still thin and had little curve to write home about, Charlotte had always considered herself relatively pretty.

She could have told Sirius to leave Snape alone, she reasoned, as she descended the stairs.

Sitting in his arm chair, Severus drank deeply from his tumbler of firewhiskey.

His pale arms and hands were scratched from the thrown glassware she carefully sidestepped, and he had rolled his sleeves to his elbows, showing toned, muscled forearms.

He ignored her until she stood before him, and only glanced her way when she took the glass of whiskey from his hand and sat on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Sev," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Shut up, Fraser."

His voice slurred as he reached for the glass in her hands and plucked it from her fingers.

"I don't want your fucking pity."

She watched him take a large swallow of the liquor.

"I married you," he began slowly, "Because of everything available to him – and it was really everything he could have had – he wanted you."

Severus pointed a drunken fingertip at her.

"And there Dumbledore was, offering you up. He said you needed someone to look after you."

He took another long drink, "And I wanted Black to fucking suffer."

"I'm sorry."

"I took you in, when you were a Death Eater. I let everyone know you were my student."

"I know."

"Just so that he would find out, and he did, you know. He knew that you were _mine_."

Charlotte watched him silently.

"I wonder what the great Sirius Black thought. You married his younger brother. You became a Death Eater. You were my student. Then, you married me."

Severus was staring at her, "Do you think no one has told him by now? You are my _wife_, Charlotte, and you will not forget it."

Charlotte reached for his glass and took a small sip.

"You're not going to Boston."

"No, I'm not," she whispered.

"You'll stay here, with me."

Perhaps if Charlotte had been as drunken as her husband or had not been listening to him but staring at the destruction of their home around them, Charlotte would not have heard the words leave his mouth. Though each syllable had been a command, there was a whisper in his voice that was something more.

_With me._

"I'll stay."

Severus was watching her as she handed him back his glass, and she moved carefully to the kitchen to fetch the bottle of whiskey in the cabinet.

"Why did you come down here?"

His words were slurred now, and Charlotte stared at the large gap in the bottle that had appeared since his destruction began hours ago.

"Because I'm your wife," she answered softly, "But more so, because I think I'm your only friend, too."

Severus snorted.

"I didn't have any place to go, you know. No one would rent to me. I couldn't get a job. Gringott's had sealed my vaults."

She poured herself a glass of the smoking liquor.

"Dumbledore said that I should marry you, and that all these problems would go away. And they did."

Carefully, she stepped over a broken plate and moved back to her seat. She glanced around the pictures that had been thrown from the mantle, the books that had haphazardly landed on the rug.

"Because I became a fucking martyr."

They sat in silence for several moments.

"I'm scared," she whispered finally.

"You should be," he answered after several moments.

"Will you help me again?"

Severus was watching her now as she swirled her glass filled with liquor.

"You're not going to run off to Rookwood?"

"No."

"I always fucking hated Rookwood," Severus muttered drunkenly, and Charlotte hid a smile in her sleeve, "He was an idiot to name Bellatrix."

Charlotte leaned back on her palm, carefully balancing her glass on her lap.

"The Dark Lord will not touch you," Severus muttered quietly.

She watched him as he refilled his glass from the bottle she had carried over.

"I married you perhaps for revenge against Sirius Black," he mused, "But there were other reasons."

"And those are?"

She was feeling her cheeks beginning to warm from the liquor as Severus leaned forward. For a moment, she had the impulse to lean forward.

"Because I fucking wanted you."

And perhaps it was the liquor she had consumed, or the heat from the fireplace that Severus had started despite it being July, or that the entire day was clouding her judgement.

But Charlotte Snape leaned forward and pressed her lips against her husband's.

* * *

Yaaay! I had a hard time writing this chapter, but please let me know what you think. For all of my readers who are celebrating, Happy Easter 2019!


	7. Chapter 7

_A very big SHOUT OUT to my newest reviewers! 10 Points to Gryffindor! 10 Points to Slytherin! 10 Points to Hufflepuff! 10 Points to Ravenclaw! _

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For several seconds, they remained quite still.

Charlotte could taste the firewhiskey on their lips and could smell the soft lingering scents the marsh had left on him. She could feel his breath hitch as their lips touched.

She envisioned him grasping her face in his drunken stupor and kissing her harshly. She imagined him spewing lines of wanting her. She pictured him pressing his body against hers. Perhaps these were all things she desperately needed to hear, to feel.

But instead, the potion master leaned forward for just a moment and allowed their lips to truly feel one another. His mouth moved in a soft, gentle way to cover her own before he slowly pulled away.

In a moment, it was over, and Severus was standing up with his glass of whiskey.

"Goodnight, Charlotte," he said finally, as he reached the stairs.

As she listened to him climb the stairs to his bedroom, Charlotte felt her breath hitch.

For some reason or another, her eyes began to sting.

It wasn't rejection, really, she argued with herself.

She took his seat in the armchair, still warm from his body.

After all, he had reciprocated, she reasoned.

Charlotte didn't know why she suddenly felt the urge to cry.

Finishing her firewhiskey, Charlotte began to clear the destruction. She swept up the broken particles of glass and put the tomes of text away upon the shelf and reassembled broken picture frames as best she could without magic.

When she had calmed herself, she stepped out into the yard and found her way to the cool bench outside and turned her face to the stars.

Severus Snape was not unattractive, she decided.

Despite her misgivings about him at Hogwarts, Charlotte decided that there were attractive features of the potions master.

During her time as a Death Eater, she had seen him shirtless several times as they changed after raids. Though he was not as muscular or built as Sirius had been, he had an admirable figure. His arms were strong and toned, and his hands were broad and strong. He wasn't the stretched out, thinly muscled man that Regulus had been, nor was he the stocky one Sirius had been. No, Severus landed somewhere in between.

But more than his physical attributes, there was something about Snape's mind that seemed to catch her breath in her throat.

Though she would have been unsuited to explain it to anyone else, there was a deep kindness in Severus that she doubted many others had been given the privilege of seeing. After all, he had married her to save her, in a way. He had taken her under his wing during the war. Though he had his own reasons – and Charlotte doubted she would ever be privy to all of them – Severus had decided to be kind to her, with little reason at all.

And above his kindness and all the soft parts of him she could imagine and conjure up, there was the very essence of him all.

Severus Snape was perhaps the most cunning man she had ever met.

Charlotte had been Sorted into Slytherin without much hesitation. Both of her parents had been in Slytherin, her grandparents had been in Slytherin. It seemed destiny that she would be in the same House as her family. It was tradition, after all. But there had been a moment, perhaps, in which she had longed to be in Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. It had lingered at the cusp of her mind until the Hat had rested upon her frizzy coffee-colored hair and then the Sorting Hat had reminded her.

She was too conniving to be anything other than a Slytherin.

After all, Charlotte had little qualm of doing what she must in order to save her own skin.

So perhaps it was natural, she reasoned under the night sky, that a man who was sensibly attractive, kind, and Slytherin to his very core, would evoke these feelings.

There was something to be said of a wizard who could fool the Dark Lord.

There was something, she allowed herself, sinisterly attractive about it.

"But it's _Snape_," she said aloud.

Snape with his dithering glares and long nose; that greasy hair.

She let out a noise of frustration and kicked her heels.

_You'll stay here. With me._

Charlotte would not deny that every fiber of her being wanted to run. The thought of the Dark Lord returning, of the brand on her forearm becoming alive once more, made her skin crawl. She had been asked to do many things in service to the Dark Lord, and though she could reason away her crimes, they had left a stain on her.

The obscurus.

With just thinking the word, she felt something shift and move inside of her like smoke beneath her skin.

She recalled the burnt shell of her father's apothecary in Knockturn Alley, the embers lighting the night sky. Though she had not seen the totality of her destruction, Charlotte had heard that at least three other buildings had been destroyed, and that Dumbledore had instructed Order members to obliviate anyone who had seen more than they should have.

Despite the few hours of sleep she had gotten at the Burrow, Charlotte fell exhaustion taking its toll on her. She made her way back into the house as the sun began to rise and looked at the clock hanging above the staircase.

In a few hours, someone from the Order would be arriving. Charlotte wondered exactly what that would entail as she began sorting through the cupboards for the tea tin. She set the kettle on and began combing through the drawers for a vial of Invigoration Draught.

As the kettle whistled, Charlotte heard Severus moving about upstairs and snagged another vial of the draught. She took out another cup and saucer, leaving it on the counter as she poured her own brew and hurried up the stairs before she heard his bedroom door open.

He would be hungover, she reasoned, as she began sorting through her things brought from the Leaky Cauldron.

He might not remember the evening at all, she found herself hoping suddenly, as she pulled a sundress over her head.

When she finally had decided she looked presentable enough for company, Charlotte ventured back down the stairs, winding her long hair into a messy bun atop her head.

Severus looked up at her from the edge of his morning's copy of the Daily Prophet.

As she moved around him to set her cup and saucer in the sink, his hand reached out and grabbed hers. His thumb pressed into her palm for just a moment.

"Thank you for the tea," he murmured, releasing her hand, "And the potion."

"You're welcome," she pressed her hand to her warm cheek, "Are you feeling better?"

"Significantly."

They stood for several moments in the kitchen, Charlotte washing her cup and saucer as Severus drank his own tea and thumbed through the pages of his paper.

"Who is coming today?"

"Lupin, I believe."

"Ah."

Severus glanced up at her and rose a brow, "I will not be attending your lesson."

Charlotte paused in her efforts to dry the saucer, "Oh."

"Monosyllabic answers are beneath you, Charlotte."

Startled, she looked at him. He was watching her expressionlessly.

"You don't like him – Remus,"

"I do not care for him."

"Are you going to leave?"

Severus snorted, "I have far too many lesson plans to arrange to take the day off, Charlotte."

Charlotte wondered if he would hide away in the basement for the day.

Severus kept his basement in almost sterile condition, and Charlotte had been given strict instruction to never enter it without his permission. It held his office, his potion stores, and his brewing stations. Charlotte had never had any inclination to go down there, recalling the odors that still lingered in the house during the school year.

"As I have no idea what kind of home the wolf keeps, nor do I especially trust his ability to understand your condition, you will be holding your lessons here."

She shifted on her feet.

"What year are you doing lesson plays for," she offered in hopes of changing the conversation.

Charlotte had no particular loyalty to Remus, but she disliked that Severus seemed to simply refer to him by his condition. Sirius had always been especially protective of Remus, she recalled.

Severus turned the page of his paper, "Third year."

"The Wiggenweld Potion, then?"

He blinked, looking up at her, "Yes, as well as others."

"Girding Potion, Confusing Concoction, Shrinking Solution, Wideye Potion, and…" Charlotte drifted off.

"Antidote to Uncommon Poisons."

"Ah, yes, that's the one."

"You recall your potions lessons."

"My father was an apothecary owner, Sev, I know my potions."

He was watching her now as she began to put away their breakfast tea spread.

"What cauldron is quickest for the Wideye Potion?"

"Copper," she answered, raising a brow as she turned to him.

"What is the final ingredient to the Wiggenweld Potion?"

"Boom berry juice."

Severus paused.

"What are the three primary ingredients to the Confusing Concoction?"

"Scurvy grass, lovage, and sneezewort."

"Correct."

Charlotte smiled to herself and turned to close the tea tin.

"You may assist me after your lessons."

Her smile broadened, "Okay."

By the time Remus had arrived, Severus had already descended to his work. Charlotte had finished a second vial of Invigoration Draught and was deciding what to cook for dinner.

"What have you been working on here?"

Charlotte hastily seized the slip of parchment Remus had reached for on the kitchen counter and held it behind her back, "Nothing."

Remus grinned and reached around her, and despite her loud protests, fished the parchment from her fingers.

"Dinner plans?"

She colored.

"I've never cooked for Severus before."

Remus continued to grin at her, "And it looks like you're planning quite the menu. Any occasion?"

"No!" Charlotte covered her mouth at the shout, "I just want it to be nice."

Passing the parchment back to her, Remus continued to grin as she tucked it away in a drawer and followed him to the living room.

Before Severus had descended to the basement, he had moved around the furniture to allow for a reasonable amount of standing space. Living in a muggle neighborhood, they were not able to conduct their lesson outside as Charlotte would have preferred, but Severus had cast several protective charms and removed most of the breakable objects from the room.

"What are we going to be doing today?"

"Summoning charms."

Charlotte blinked, "Summoning charms?"

Remus deposited an object on the fireplace mantle and moved to sit on the sofa. He looked gangly there, with his too-thin frame and his long legs, Charlotte noted. He wasn't the golden-haired, smiling boy she had known him to be at Hogwarts.

"You know all of the spells. I don't need to teach you the basics. Summoning charms are about channeling your magic on to a single object, which is something you're struggling with."

"I make things explode, Remus. I hope whatever it is you're wanting me to summon isn't sentimental."

She glanced to the mantle, where she noted Remus had placed a goblet.

It was metal, she realized, with relief.

"In obscurials, their magic manifests as a physical object – a black cloud, or black smoke. Normally, your magic is part of your being. But because you've been repressing your magic, it's taken its own form."

"What is a summoning charm going to do to fix this?"

"Dumbledore and I agree that focusing your magic with intent and purpose may allow your obscurus to be reabsorbed. You will have to start using magic every day, even if it's just a cleaning charm."

She hesitated, "Those don't work either."

Remus patted the seat next to him, "With time, they will."

Charlotte dropped onto the sofa next to him and stared at the goblet.

"But first, Charlie, I must ask you something."

She had taken her wand out and placed it on her lap.

_Cherry and Dragon Heartstring, 13 inches. Give this one a go, my dear._

Charlotte still recalled the day Ollivander had placed the tapered wand in her hand. It had been beautiful, she had noted, carved carefully with tiny cherry blossoms and dragon claws.

_A truly lethal power._

When those words had left Ollivander's mouth, Charlotte had wanted to give the wand back to him, despite feeling as though it had been an extension of her very arm.

"Why did you stop using your magic?"

Caught from her thoughts, Charlotte mulled several answers in her mouth, before she looked up at Remus blankly.

There had been no particularly conscious decision, she decided. After the war, Charlotte had tried to limit her use of her wand because rumors had begun circulating that the Ministry of Magic had put the trace back on wands to determine if any curses were being used in the wizarding community.

It had been a baseless rumor, and one that had been proven false numerous times. However, Charlotte had one day looked at the cherry wand and realized that those careful words from Ollivander had become true.

_A truly lethal power._

Charlotte had murdered people with it. She had tortured numerous people with it, and she had cursed just as many. With this wand, Charlotte had turned from a naïve school girl into a cunning murderer. Try as she might to will her guilt away, it ate at her slowly, taking slow measured bites with every face that flittered through her mind.

"I killed people with that wand," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Remus said nothing, his eyes falling to the piece of woodwork in her lap.

"I tortured people, and I cursed them," Charlotte found her throat closing, "Because he told me to."

"You were protecting yourself, Charlie," Remus said finally, but his voice was strained.

"And then, you know, he found out that I was good at certain things."

The wizard beside her turned, waiting patiently, his face impassive.

Charlotte swallowed, "Like possession."

She watched the color change in Remus's face, turning pale beneath his tan.

"I didn't mean to be good at it," she said suddenly, "It just happened."

"Possession, Charlie?"

In the wizarding community, possession was perhaps one of the most sinister capabilities a witch or wizard could hold. Aside from the killing curse, possession was one of the most punishable offenses. It allowed a witch or wizard to assume control over a body without any spoken incantations or curses and allowed them access to every thought or memory they held.

Charlotte had become incredibly adept at possession, under the hands of Severus. It came hand-in-hand with Occlumency and Legilimency. He had tutored her dutifully until she could slip into the mind of some of the most talented aurors the Ministry of Magic had held. She could crack their minds open and spill every secret they kept – possession removed all signs of occlumency, it destroyed every wall ever built within the mind.

And when Charlotte had fished out all the information she could discover from them, the Dark Lord instructed her to end them. Most often, Charlotte did so by carefully placing thoughts and doubts in the mind, removing any semblance of joy or happiness from their conscious, until the possessed wizard or witch had seen no other option but to kill themselves.

"I wasn't good at anything else, Remus, I tried!" Her voice was raising, growing desperate at his horrified expression, "I tried to be good at anything - anything else, I swear."

"Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"Yes," Severus had appeared in the doorway from the basement, "He is aware."

Charlotte looked up at him with tearful eyes, "I'm sorry, I was too loud."

"Charlotte was incredibly proficient at possession and mind work," Severus continued, "Because I taught her to be useful to the Dark Lord. She did not need to risk her life in raids or in duels, I ensured it."

Remus watched Severus move to the kitchen, "I'm certain you did everything you could to help her, Severus."

"I believe you are here to teach my wife how to channel her magic appropriately, Lupin. It is not your place to judge the actions of witch who suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord for mere survival. I suggest that the topic of your conversation return to her lessons."

"My apologies."

Remus turned to Charlotte, who was staring at the wand on her lap as though any moment it would burn her.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Remus whispered to her, "It wasn't my place."

"I tried to be good at anything else," she whimpered.

"I'm sure you did. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I didn't want to do it," a sob caught in her throat.

"Your lessons can resume tomorrow, Lupin," Severus said finally.

Charlotte stared at the toes of his shoes as they stood before her brimming eyes.

"I didn't want to do it, Severus," She said as a sob loosened, "I really didn't want to."

"You can see yourself out."

Severus caught her elbow and raised her to her feet, carefully guiding her away from the sofa and plucking her wand from her lap. He tucked it in her pocket carefully as he moved her to the doorway leading to the basement.

"Charlie, I'll see you tomorrow."

Remus sounded immeasurably sad, she recognized beyond the slow whine that had gathered in her throat and made her chest burn.

"I didn't want to do it," she whispered.

"Goodbye, Lupin," Snape's voice was cold.

As Severus followed her down the stairway, Charlotte tried to calm her shaking hands. By the time they reached the stone floor of Severus's office, however, her entire body trembled.

No sooner had he landed on the bottom stair did Severus suddenly seize her. His arms crushed her back against his chest.

For a moment, Charlotte tried to draw away from him. She wanted to steel herself, to resume the carefully constructed walls in her mind as she felt Severus pressing into her thoughts.

"It was necessary," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "You needed to learn."

"I could've done something else, Sev," she sobbed suddenly, turning to look at him with wide eyes that had begun to stream.

She wondered how often she had cried in front of Severus Snape.

"There was nothing else," he said fiercely, "Nothing else that you could have done."

"I was a good duelist!"

"You would have been killed by aurors."

"I could've done it!"

"You would have died, Charlotte," Severus took a menacing step towards her, "You would be dead, now. Is that what you want?"

Charlotte wondered for a moment if it was what she wanted, and no sooner had the thought entered her mind did the wizard reach out and crush her to his chest.

"Never," he said, and his voice was soft, velvet thunder.

She allowed herself to sag in his arms and took gulping breaths in between her cries. Severus held her still against him, his firm arms tight around her. His fingers reached up to smooth her hair carefully, and when she had stilled, he turned her in his arms to face him.

His face was angry, and Charlotte swallowed.

"The wolf has no business discussing this with you," Severus growled, "And I will not permit it. You will tell me if he goes fishing again."

Charlotte nodded.

"He was afforded opportunities in this life that we were not given. He was never forced to cast away his morals for the sake of his own survival. He was never asked to do as we were."

She wiped her cheeks.

"You will feel no shame for those actions, Charlotte. _I_ taught you to be skilled in possession. _I_ made you useful to the Dark Lord. If there is any shame to be felt, Charlotte, I would feel it and there is not a moment that passes in which I feel shame for ensuring your survival in that war."

Charlotte stood before him as he adjusted his shirt and glanced at the wet spot her tears had made on his shoulder. In a moment, it had disappeared.

"I request your assistance with my lesson plans. Do you feel up to this?"

The corners of her mouth turned, "I do."

"Good, please bring over that stack. They are last year's lessons and I found that there is much improvement to be made for these idiots Dumbledore puts in my dungeons."

Charlotte was smiling by the time she grabbed hold the stack of lesson plans, and found her trembles easing with each assignment they crafted together.

She had done plenty of shameful things during the war under service to the Dark Lord. There were things she was not proud of, she allowed, but for now at least the Dark Lord was gone. She wasn't obligated to crack open minds anymore or spill dread into their judgement.

As she carefully wrote Severus's plans for his new third years – and Charlotte was beginning to realize how lenient Slughorn had been – Charlotte decided she wouldn't do it again. Maybe she would never be able to, she thought, and perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

A smile crept across her face.

* * *

_Here is Chapter Seven, lovelies. Your reviews brighten my world and make me do many cartwheels._

_I have decided to begin looking for a beta reader, and if you have any recommendations please send them my way!_

_Fun game - please leave your House in the Review Section, we'll see who wins the House Cup by the end of this fanfic! :)_


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you so much to YellowAsphodel, Grey Wren, and Guests for your reviews!

* * *

_They were fine loafers, made of Italian leather and lined with something extraordinarily comfortable. _

_The trousers were neatly ironed, a clear starched pleat drawn down the center of each leg._

_Even his belt met his station, the buckle something heavy and engraved with runes._

_His legs were rather long, she noted as she stared at the chair newly propped up._

_She tried not to look at the swinging heels beside them._

_**She's gone**__, Charlotte whispered to the hesitant mind, __**She's dead.**_

_**Everything is gone.**_

_The long leg took one step upon the mahogany chair, the loafer sunk into the upholstery._

_**Gone.**_

_Carefully, his fingers slipped around the rope._

_**It will all be over soon.**_

The scream cut through the night like an arrow hitting a target. Charlotte sat upright in bed, her hands clawing around her throat for an invisible noose. Her breaths came to her in flutters, and she stared around the room as a black tendril of smoke sucked into her mouth as she gasped for breath.

It felt as though several minutes had passed as she choked for air before Severus swung her bedroom door open, wand lit and drawn.

His eyes carefully cleared the room before he let them rest on her.

For the seventh night in a row, Charlotte dreamt of Mr. and Mrs. Winger.

"It was coming out, Severus," she sobbed, "It was trying to come out again."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

He took a long, measured breath.

"Charlotte, I know you are against taking potions," he held up his hand to mute her protest, "But in the morning, I will go to Diagon Alley and I will be purchasing ingredients to begin the Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Charlotte let her mouth close, protests dying in her throat.

"I need sleep, Charlotte," he continued, "And so do you."

As he began to clean the destruction her night terror had caused in her bedroom, Charlotte slipped away from Severus and closed herself in the bathroom.

She took slow, steady breaths in through her mouth and out through her nose as she stared at her reflection.

Her coffee-colored hair was damp with sweat and matted to her head, her hazel eyes bloodshot and ringed with dark circles. In the last week, she had accumulated only a mere few hours of sleep before waking in the midst of a night terror, and clearly by the look of Severus's face, he was feeling the effects of exhaustion as well.

Charlotte rinsed her face off and took several minutes to comb through the rat's nest her hair had become before leaning against the bathroom door. Severus would have given up on any attempt of sleep by now, she thought, and would be downstairs putting the kettle on.

Her eyes began to sting.

She knew that upon descending to the kitchen, Severus would question her lessons with Remus.

After all, after a week, she supposed there ought to have been some sign of improvement.

However, Charlotte didn't know how to tell Severus that although she attended each lesson with Lupin, she made every effort to use the absolute minimum of magic required.

Remus had begun to grow frustrated. She could barely summon the goblet from one side of the fireplace mantle to the other. When he had decided to move to a lighter object – a quill – she had recalculated and adjusted to ensure that a similar result would be drawn with that, as well.

Dumbledore had advised she needed to start using her magic.

Charlotte was determined not to.

She supplemented her lessons with using basic cleaning charms in her house chores, and occasionally did a wand wave to dry her hair or close a window. But Charlotte could not help with each swish or flick of her wrist, to see the color of Lupin's face draining as she told him the darkest part of her.

She was an abomination.

It made sense, she surmised, that it would be Mr. and Mrs. Winger that haunted her sleep. After all, despite the two deaths she had caused prior, they were perhaps her most important murders.

They were the first she had killed with possession.

Charlotte shuddered.

She recalled the days leading up to Snape's decision to teach her the art of possession. There had been several raids in Diagon Alley, and one in the Ministry of Magic. The Dark Lord had wanted to obtain some object from the Ministry's vaults, and Charlotte had been called as a last-ditch reinforcement to a losing battle.

When she had arrived, Alastor Moody was in the midst of a duel with Evan Rosier, and Snape had taken Marlene McKinnon. They had been wand-locked in sparking spells and crackling curses, and Charlotte had dove in head-first, her hands clammy and cold. The Dark Lord had never called upon her for such large-scale raids, but Charlotte could note a battle in the throngs of defeat when she saw one.

At some point, Moody had killed Rosier. Charlotte recalled seeing her schoolmate's body hit the marble floor of the Ministry, and her breath catch in her lungs. It had just been long enough for her eyes to be drawn away from her own duel, for something to catch her in her middle.

She recalled crawling across the sprays of sparks to grab Rosier's hand, determined to bring his body back to Louisa, and her legs not quite working properly. When her hand had enclosed on his cold one, she had apparated and something had scorched her belly like a hot branding iron.

When she landed in the Malfoy Manor, Rosier landed on top of her. Perhaps those moments had counted, she thought, when Louisa had screamed at seeing the corpse of her brother. There had been a whirlwind of movement, and at some point, she recalled Narcissa screaming about blood.

Charlotte had thought Narcissa meant Rosier, but she had glanced to Evan's body – hit with a killing curse, the only bloody part of him was a cut on his lip – until she saw Narcissa pointing at her.

Later, Charlotte would learn that when she turned to look at Evan dropping to the floor dead in front of her, that Severus had turned to ensure she was paying attention to her own duel. But there had been a moment – a critical moment – in which Marlene McKinnon had rebounded the curse Severus had thrown at her into Severus's shield charm, which had then propelled it directly into an unintended target.

Charlotte.

The charm had eviscerated her abdomen, cutting through the soft flesh of her belly and tearing through delicate organs and entrails. She had taken one look at the gore of her torso and her eyes had promptly rolled to the back of her head.

It had taken Louisa, Severus, and Rabastan to close her wounds. But Louisa was only a trainee healer, Severus a potions master, and Rabastan was something altogether different. Charlotte did not know precisely what had occurred in the hours after she had landed on the floor of Malfoy Manor, but she remembered what Louisa had told her afterwards.

_I couldn't fix everything, Charlotte – they were just so damaged._

Charlotte sat on the bathroom floor, welcoming the cool of tile against her hot skin.

At some point during those hours, Severus had spoken to the Dark Lord and obtained permission to begin instructing Charlotte in possession.

Perhaps it was misplaced guilt.

Perhaps it was because Charlotte was simply unsuited to dueling.

Perhaps it was a number of things.

But Charlotte had been given forty-eight hours for rest and recovery, and her lessons had begun.

At first, she had struggled. After all she had struggled plenty with Occlumency and Legilimency before she had found her niche. It was about emptying the mind, and Charlotte had eventually managed to do this by picturing a basin of water slowly freezing.

Possession was the opposite. It was an empty basin, slowly filling.

Whereas the Dark Lord had been capable of full-body possession, Charlotte had never managed to get so far. She could never manage the aspect of physical possession, and her body had always needed to be locked away safely somewhere while her mind wandered about.

In the beginning, she had needed objects.

Mr. and Mrs. Winger had vehemently opposed the Dark Lord. Mr. Winger was a writer for the Daily Prophet, and lived in London with his wife and son, Talbott. Charlotte briefly had recalled reading several articles written by Mr. Winger where he had made several comments – albeit correct ones, Charlotte would later learn – about the Dark Lord's intentions for the wizarding community. Specifically, she recalled, about his own bloodlines.

When Charlotte had been given the quill, she thought nothing of it. Her first duty was to learn who the quill belonged to, and she had been eager to prove that she was capable of being useful.

Charlotte had been desperate to be useful.

It was simple to learn that the quill belonged to Mr. Winger. It had only taken several moments for her to seize his mind and rummage through a desk to find something that sparked familiarity in the consciousness of her first victim. She had found it on several article clippings – Winger – written clearly and precisely at the bottom of each cut.

The Dark Lord had requested her to discover what Mr. Winger knew about his parents, and Charlotte had spent several days before she could find where Winger had stowed away those thoughts – his mind, she remembered, was rather orderly – and she had given the Dark Lord the information with the eagerness of a dog awaiting praise.

Rather than praise – for he was not capable of it – the Dark Lord had requested her to dispose of them.

For days, Charlotte had debated what to do. But soon, the Dark Lord would be demanding results. He had instructed it was to look like a suicide, and Charlotte did not want to approach Severus and ask for his assistance. She wanted to be useful, after all.

She was unsure when the thought came to her, to use possession to slowly burn the file-cabinets within the mind of Mr. Winger, or how she had managed to make the leap from his mind to his wife. It had taken only perhaps a few hours, and the deed was done.

After, she recalled standing and feeling light-headed, and promptly vomited into Narcissa's potted hydrangea.

However, the entire thing had been viewed a failure. Charlotte had been unable to find the boy Talbott, and as a result, she endured several hours of the Cruciatus Curse.

She had not failed again.

Charlotte wondered what had happened to that boy.

Carefully, she picked herself up from the bathroom floor and rinsed her face a second time with lukewarm water from the tap.

She lifted her loose t-shirt up and stared at her belly.

The scar crawled across her like a claw mark. The first laid horizontally four fingerbreadths from the top of her belly button. The deepest had cut straight through. Louisa had lamented at the dark purple marks, and Charlotte had done her best not to appear bothered. After all, they were perfectly acceptable to the alternative. But Charlotte hated them.

She hated those purple dents and fissures on her abdomen, and she hated the brand that stood as a fly on milk upon her forearm.

The bathroom mirror cracked.

Charlotte stared at her fractured reflection as she let the t-shirt drop and lifted her wand.

It was not an altogether incorrect representation of her, she thought, as she studiously watched her mirrored image. There was a brokenness, she mused, as her lips whispered a repairing charm.

She watched her duplicate's cracked seams blend together and for perhaps several moments, she regretted there was no similar charm for the mind.

By the time she had washed and dressed herself for the day, Severus had left.

The house felt altogether empty, and Charlotte sat upon the sofa and stared at the ashes which would need sweeping later in the fireplace.

Talbott Winger.

It seemed rather stupid, she thought, that later she had learned the boy was an animagus and had merely flown out of the house. She had learned through her error that animagi had two separate consciousnesses; one of human, the other of creature. It had plagued her for weeks afterward, as she scrambled to try and determine how to ensnare the mind of animagi – determined to right her grievous error – but she had been unsuccessful.

There could be no rightful apology, she surmised.

No letter delivered by owl would salve the wound she had created.

No unexpected visit would shake the pain she had produced.

What she had done was unforgiveable.

The fireplace roared to life and Charlotte blinked.

Louisa had always been a beautiful witch. She had long, thick honey brown hair and ocean-blue eyes, with a long, refined nose and high cheekbones.

Her face peered at Charlotte through the flames.

"Charlie?"

"Lou!"

Charlotte leaned forward in her position, a smile pulling at her lips.

It was a rare treat to hear from Louisa, who was now a trained healer at St. Mungo's.

"Your husband sent me an owl this morning," Charlotte stiffened, "He seemed keen on us having a hen night. I didn't think Severus knew what a hen night was," Louisa laughed charcoal dust.

"Did he specifically say, 'hen night'?" Charlotte was curious.

"No, but I got the general message to get you out of that muggle dump," Charlotte cringed at Louisa's words and hoped the witch hadn't noticed, "Do you feel up to drinks this Friday? I was thinking the White Wyvern – like old times."

In their freshly graduated days, Charlotte and Louisa had gone to the White Wyvern nearly every weekend. The pub in Knockturn Alley was filled more with the younger crowd of Death Eaters then – the older ones usually slinking off to Moribund's.

It was there that Charlotte hesitated.

"I'll have to ask Severus," she began slowly, "To make sure we don't have anything on Friday."

Louisa seemed to raise an elegant coal brow within the flames.

"You'll have to ask Severus?"

"Well, yes, Louisa – he's my husband," her voice drifted.

"Since when did that ever stop you? Reg used to have to drag you out by your cloak on weekends and you still came. Think of the fire whiskey, Charlie!"

Her excitement was a bit contagious, and Charlotte shifted on her perch upon the sofa.

"I'll talk to him tonight and send you an owl. Will you be at work?"

"When am I not?"

Charlotte grinned, "Too true."

"Well, send me an owl when Snape comes home - I have a patient, got to run!"

In an instant, she had disappeared in the ash.

It was not that Charlotte doubted Severus would allow her to go, she thought as she lifted to her feet. If Severus had written to Louisa – whom he generally disliked, to be noted – then he obviously was outweighing the cons of having Charlotte out in the general public.

But Severus had likely made the assumption that Louisa, now being a generally acceptable member of wizarding society, would like a pub like the Leaky Cauldron. Louisa Rosier, however generally acceptable she may try to be, still was a pureblooded witch. Her brother had died for the Dark Lord's cause – a deadly duel between himself and Mad-Eye Moody, which Charlotte herself had witnessed – and there would always be a bitter edge to her because of it.

She busied herself with cleaning the remnants of Severus's morning tea and fixed herself a sandwich while she pondered. It was several hours before Severus arrived home, covered in a light sprinkling of rain and absolutely reeking of odorous ingredients.

"Where have you been off to?"

A dithering look was cast her way as Severus removed his damp cloak, "Diagon Alley."

"But you've been gone hours."

"I had several tasks that needed attending there."

Severus dropped a paper shopping bag onto the table in front of her.

She peered at it curiously, "What is it?"

"Open it," he retorted as he began to unpack his other items of glittering beetle eyes and lacewing flies.

Wrapped discreetly in thin tissue paper was a beautiful dark leather-bound book. The front cover was heavy, inlaid with a mirror wrapped in silver enamel serpents, and the pages were lined in vibrant emerald ink. It was perhaps the most Slytherin piece of stationary she had ever held.

"It's a journal?"

Severus snorted, "Why would I purchase you a journal?"

Charlotte peered at her reflection in the book's mirror before glancing in the bag to find its twin hiding in another sheet of tissue.

"Term will be starting in a few weeks," Severus reminded her, "This is how you will communicate with me while I am at Hogwarts."

"How does it work?"

Charlotte turned the heavy book over to investigate further.

"The mirror will remain open, if you wish. You may write me letters and I will receive them instantly in my own copy, and they will remain there for several days at a time should I be late in my replies."

Severus was watching her carefully, "To close it at any time – press your wand to the cover and say, 'Dormiens anguis', and it will close the mirror."

Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Thank you, Severus," she said finally.

Severus turned to retreat to his basement, but Charlotte hastily stood.

"Louisa came in the floo today, to ask me out for drinks Friday."

Charlotte could give him credit for feigning innocence, she supposed, as his eyebrows raised minimally in mocked surprise.

"She wants to go to the White Wyvern – in Knockturn Alley."

"I am aware."

Charlotte hesitated, "I haven't been around them, since the war, really. I'm not sure-," Charlotte was cut off as Severus narrowed his eyes.

"They are aware that you are my wife, Charlotte."

She tried to not look as confused as she felt, "But the Death Eaters."

"Whereas you may have had questionable rank, Charlotte, I did not."

Charlotte closed her mouth.

If the Death Eaters knew she had married Severus, then he had told them. Their ceremony had been unannounced, held in a small office at the Ministry. For the better part of two years, Charlotte doubted anyone had cared enough to look up what had happened to her after the Dark Lord fell. As Severus had said, she was not necessarily important, and most Death Eaters tried to only associate with as few of their comrades as possible outside of raids and other meetings.

It drew less unwanted attention.

"Go out, Charlotte. Try to enjoy yourself."

Charlotte watched him retreat to his basement.

If Charlotte had been worried about being seen by other Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley, her fear was quelled now. No one had ever had the necessary backbone to upset Snape intentionally. She doubted anyone would want to catch the potion master's attention by upsetting his wife.

No, she thought finally as she held the leather bound book to her chest, no one would question Charlotte Snape the way they would have if she were still Charlotte Fraser.

* * *

I'm terribly sorry for the late update. I'm in the midst of a cross-country move and it seems like every time I sit down to write I've forgotten what I'm supposed to be writing! Thank you all for your patience.

HOUSE CUP

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Gryffindor - 0

Ravenclaw - 0

Remember to leave your House in the review section! Bring your House to Victory!


	9. Chapter 9

A BIG shout out to the following reviewers for their lovely reviews last week. Hufflepuff is starting to give Slytherin a run for their money.

rabradley09, Miss Luny, firstofhername, WeAreTheHearts, and YellowAsphodel

* * *

Sitting precariously alongside a pile of discarded clothing, Charlotte Snape stared at the empty closet in front of her and wondered when she had last found herself in such a predicament.

There were dresses in diverse shades of green, blouses with intentionally long sleeves, slacks that seemed to all need belts. Her nose wrinkled as she held up a pear-colored summer dress.

"Just pick something," Louisa retorted.

"I don't have anything to wear."

Louisa stood, and Charlotte did her best to not shade herself the same color of the garment she toted in her hand. The blue-eyed witch sported a pair of flashy pumps and a navy dress that hugged the witch's curves and gave a long look at her lengthy legs.

"Charlie," Louisa's voice was reprimanding, "Just. Pick. _Something_."

Perhaps it was simply because Charlotte could not recall the last time she had gone out for any recreational purpose. Perhaps it was because in the last two years, she had lost a startling amount of weight. It could have been all of these things, but one lay prominently at the forefront of her mind as she discarded the pear dress.

She was Severus Snape's wife now.

While married to Regulus, Charlotte had painstakingly ensured that she upheld her husband's image in public. She wore the finest dresses and had each item she purchased carefully tailored to her frame.

All of it had burned, of course. But Charlotte lamented that since the days of her first marriage, she had allowed her personal appearance to go somewhat awry.

She could not recall the last time she had been to a salon for a hair trim – choosing to shear the split ends with a pair of kitchen scissors over the sink – nor could she bear to look at the prominence of her collarbone, her ribs as they pressed against her milky skin.

Louisa was watching her.

It had been nearly a year since she had seen Louisa. In that time, it appeared as though her schoolmate hadn't changed a bit. She still wore her long hair with blunt bangs, her body still drew attention from the most loyal of wizards. The only difference it seemed that Louisa Rosier had made to her appearance since graduation was exchanging her tortoiseshell glasses for a pair of thick black frames that should have been hideous, but somehow framed the witch's high cheekbones and regal nose to something altogether beautiful.

Charlotte thought she would be sick.

"Do you still want to go?"

"Yes," Charlotte hurriedly interjected at her friend's lofty voice, "I want to go."

Louisa shifted her balance atop her heels, before nodding a bit to herself.

"Just throw something on. I have a plan."

Charlotte never liked Louisa's plans.

But in a matter of moments, the bespectacled witch had throttled her into the pear dress and a pair of flats and had thrown a cloak over her despite Charlotte's protests of the humid heat outdoors. In between Louisa dragging Charlotte from her bedroom, she heard Louisa promise Severus – in his basement, of course – to return Charlotte before sunrise.

It had appeared that somehow over the few days since Severus had written her schoolmate, the pair had begun some sort of unconventional friendship. Severus had evidently explained much of what Charlotte had simply hoped Louisa wouldn't notice.

Rather than allowing Charlotte to apparate herself -which still mostly resulted in loss of flesh or the occasional finger – Louisa simply seized her wrist and in a moment, they were outside the Leaky Cauldron. Charlotte shook off the remnants of nausea from apparating – which she truly hated – and allowed Louisa to once again seize her by the wrist and begin dragging her through the pub.

"Hello, Mrs. Snape, Ms. Rosier," Tom blinked at the powerhouse witch that dragged Charlotte between tables, "Everything alright?"

"Never you mind, Tom!"

Charlotte cringed at Louisa's barking voice and imagined if her school roommate treated her patients with such brutal force.

She probably did, Charlotte lamented.

"Where are we going, Lou?"

She cringed at the whining desperation in her voice as Louisa yanked her on to the bustling alleyway of Diagon Alley. The witch's vice-like grip was likely leaving bruises now, and Charlotte wondered if she was losing circulation in her fingers.

"First, we are buying you a new dress," Louisa stopped and held up a finger to silence Charlotte's protest, "One that _fits. _Then we are going to see Faustus – my stylist – to give you a proper haircut. My treat, of course."

"I can buy my own clothes-!" Charlotte's indignant voice was cut off as Louisa pressed a rigid finger against her lips.

"I know that you can afford your own clothes, and I know that you think you don't need to have much of a fuss made over you," Louisa had begun walking again, toting her alongside like a piece of refined luggage, "But you've lost at least three stone since I last saw you, and your hair looks like you've been attacked by a drunk doxy."

"A _drunk_ doxy, Lou?"

"You know that I spent the majority of Magical Creatures snogging, Charlie."

Charlotte let out an undignified snort.

"You're Snape's wife now. Maybe that didn't mean anything while we were in school, but it means something now. Your husband made a fool out of Dumbledore, Charlie," Louisa was smiling, "And that still means something now, even if the war is over."

Twilfitt and Tatting's was perhaps the most overpriced clothing store in Diagon Alley. Its patrons consisted of the pureblooded crowd – as shown by its almost exclusive sale of Slytherin uniforms – and those with more galleons than sense. Charlotte had shopped there frequently during her marriage to Regulus, and although she had since made the exchange to the less-expensive Madam Malkin's, she could still appreciate the cashmere jumpers and bejeweled blouses.

Louisa dumped Charlotte into a crushed velvet armchair and disappeared within the racks.

"Someone measure her," the honey-haired witch shouted over a shelf of shoes, "The skinny one!"

A house-elf appeared beneath a stack of fabrics, toting a measuring tape.

Charlotte cringed.

It had been easy enough to ignore her weight loss. She had simply purchased more belts, and the loose-fitting clothing never seemed to bother Severus. No one had made a comment about the bagginess of her slacks or the way her blouses hung at her shoulders. But listening to the house elf – whom had not bothered to introduce itself – shouting Charlotte's measurements over to a witch in burgundy velvet robes – made her face slowly heat.

Louisa occasionally held a garment up for approval but did not seem to listen to much of what came from Charlotte's mouth. There had been an electric-green dress, a plum colored skirt, and Charlotte was not entirely sure what the banana-yellow garment had been. Just as she had begun to wonder if Louisa had started drinking prior to her arrival at Spinner's End, she was being shoved haphazardly into a dressing room.

"Put these on," Louisa stuffed an armload of clothing into Charlotte's hands, "Hurry it up, they'll charm it all to fit."

Charlotte stripped out of her dress and shifted in her underclothes to stare at the ensemble Louisa had picked out for her.

There was a sleeveless green dress – so dark it was nearly black – with a woven torso and loose leather skirt, cinched at the waist with a belt of woven silver snakes.

"I can't wear this," Charlotte hissed over the curtain, "It doesn't have any bloody sleeves, Lou."

In a moment, the honey-haired witch had stuffed herself into the small stall with her.

"Why do you need sleeves?"

Charlotte shoved her forearm in the witch's face. The Dark Mark was faded, but still as obvious as the day it was branded to her skin, "Did you forget about this?"

Louisa frowned, "No. Why do you need to hide it? We're going to the White Wyvern, Charlotte, not the Leaky Cauldron. No one will even notice it."

"I notice it," Charlotte insisted, "Everyone _here_ will notice it."

Sighing, Louisa shook her head, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Charlotte. You served the Dark Lord – you were given his Mark. How many other witches managed to get one? Just one – Bellatrix – and you aren't half as mad as her. My brother said you served the Dark Lord admirably, you shouldn't be ashamed of it, no matter how many people out here are proclaiming their love for mudbloods."

At times, Charlotte could forget.

Inside Spinner's End, words like mudblood didn't exist. Severus had never decorated his home unlike any other wizard residing in a muggle village. While they didn't have most muggle contraptions like a television or a vacuum-cleaner, Charlotte supposed that Severus's home was integrated enough.

Nearly every month, a member of the Order would pop in on Severus to ensure there were no charms missing from his bubble of defenses, and Lupin had been arriving at their doorstep nearly daily to ensure that Charlotte continued her lessons. No one had ever made a comment that their home looked specifically as though it belonged to Death Eaters.

But Louisa was different. Her brother had been killed by Alastor Moody in the raid upon the Ministry of Magic. Charlotte herself had dragged his body home to her. Louisa was raised with many of the ways that Charlotte herself had been raised while living in the Black household.

She wondered when she had stopped thinking of them as mudbloods.

Louisa would be suspicious if she had suddenly changed her outlook. For as long as Lou had known her, Charlotte had hated muggles. They had killed her parents, they killed each other and destroyed everything they had gotten their hands on. She had left Sirius because of muggles.

"I do not want to bring attention to Severus," Charlotte covered herself slowly, "To the Order."

Louisa seemed to accept this answer, nodding after a moment, and disappearing behind the curtains.

When she returned, she slid a pair of lace arm-warmers over Charlotte's forearms. The Mark wasn't entirely hidden, she supposed, but it was obscured enough for Diagon Alley's busy streets.

In Knockturn, no one would care.

By the time Charlotte had gathered up her own items and slipped into the pair of sky-high velvet pumps that Louisa had thrown at her, Louisa had already rung up several other bags of items and had ordered the house elf to deliver them to Spinner's End.

"For Mrs. Snape," Louisa was finishing her transaction, "Make sure they are taken in with those measurements."

"Louisa, I thought we agreed on _one_ outfit," Charlotte began carefully, "_One._"

"Well, what are you supposed to wear next time?"

Charlotte scowled. She had forgotten too, perhaps, that Louisa's addiction to shopping was once akin to her own.

"You deserve nice things," Louisa continued as they stepped out to the calmer alleyway, "You've earned them."

Diagon Alley had emptied of student shoppers now, families enjoying cups of ice cream at Fortescue's or hurrying in to meet reservations in restaurants. Hogwarts would be starting the new term soon, Charlotte realized. An advertisement for half off first-year textbooks hung in Flourish & Blott's, and she paused to gaze into the bookstore as Louisa bought them a set of lemonades. Severus would be leaving to return to Hogwarts.

It made sense then, she realized, that he was suddenly too keen on ensuring Louisa was aware of her situation. That he would write to her schoolmate to make sure she had company – someone to look in on her – made Charlotte's throat tighten.

She had found herself somewhat angry thinking Severus had simply planned to get her out of the house. In the days between Charlotte and Louisa's conversation and today, she had tried her best to stay out of his way as much as she could manage. She had spent hours reading in the garden, rearranging things in her bedroom, or scrubbing the bathroom tiles. It had made sense at the time, she had thought, that Severus was getting sick of her. This had never been a part of their arrangement, after all.

That Severus had obviously cared enough to make sure she wouldn't be lonely – that he wasn't sick of her – made her suddenly want to cry.

It was a fleeting feeling, for as soon as she had begun to reach up to pinch her nose, Louisa had shoved a lavender lemonade from the stall in her hand and was leading her to their next destination.

Louisa's stylist Faustus was presumably the most colorful individual Charlotte had ever seen.

Charlotte was not sure the last time – if ever – she had seen a wizard with lilac hair.

"What have you _done_ to your _**hair**_?"

As the wizard lamented over her chopped locks, now freed from their sloppy ponytail, Charlotte watched Louisa in the mirror behind her.

She wondered what Severus had written to her.

"Her husband has told me to ensure she comes home looking ravishing."

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

Severus would never put the words 'Charlotte' and 'ravishing' in the same sentence.

She doubted he had 'ravishing' in his vocabulary at all.

"He said something of the sort," Louisa had caught her eye roll.

Faustus set to her hair, coming in with chrome scissors and an electric pink comb. He tugged at knots and gasped at the hack job she had done in the last month with Severus's kitchen shears, as Louisa provided her opinion and occasional wink in the mirror.

Charlotte tried not to begrudge her.

It had been nearly a year since she had last seen Louisa, who had just gotten her license to begin practicing as a full-fledged healer. In the following months, Charlotte had stopped expecting replies to her own infrequent letters, and eventually they had tapered off.

Somewhere in the midst of Willie, Evan, and Severus, they had drifted.

Charlotte wondered if Louisa had met anyone at St. Mungo's, or if she had moved out of the flat she had in the wizarding area of London. She wondered if Lou still had Boa – the kitten she had gotten in Hogsmeade – and if she still liked to tear up her curtains the way she had to their dormitory. Over the course of thirty minutes of pondering, Charlotte came to the conclusion quite slowly.

She didn't know about anything in Louisa's life at all.

When Regulus had died, Charlotte had thrown herself into being useful. It had been a matter of survival, and Charlotte could perhaps blame her waning friendships on her situation. But it had been quite some time now, and Charlotte knew that the excuse would hold very little now.

Maybe that was why Severus had stepped in, she reasoned as she felt her hair growing in sections and shearing off in others under the careful manipulation of Faustus' wand.

The last time she had felt as though she belonged had been at Hogwarts, and Louisa was the last remnant of her school years alive.

They had shared a dormitory; their beds occasionally being shoved together to make one large one where they could pour out their conquests from Honeyduke's and exchange gossip in between chewy caramels. They had cried over their first crushes together – Louisa had gotten such a thing over Lucius Malfoy, and Charlotte had hungered after Rabastan Lestrange in their younger years – and had fallen in love for the first time together. Louisa had never turned her nose up when Charlotte had finally wrangled Sirius into getting serious with her, and Charlotte had never begrudged Louisa for dating William Wilkes – even if he was rather thick. For awhile they had shared it all with Wilhemina – Willie – but somewhere in between it had become Charlie and Lou.

Charlotte had missed her, she realized, as Louisa crunched her ice cubes and grinned at her from the mirror.

Louisa wasn't perfect – she called Tom a dirty squib – and she was a bit caught up in appearances, but Charlotte had been that way once, too. There was, of course, the other thing, too.

If the Dark Lord was truly meant to return, then Charlotte had to keep up appearances as well.

Snape had promised that Dumbledore could not keep them safe.

"What do you think?"

Charlotte stared at her reflection.

Her wavy dark hair had been kept long, brushing the underside of her breasts, and shorn at the top to make way for face-framing side-swept bangs that accented her cheekbones and round chin. She was somewhat pretty, she realized, turning her head to look at the soft highlights Faustus had charmed into her hair. She was still too thin, she reasoned, and her body had little fat to make the desirable curves that graced Louisa's figure, but she wasn't hideous.

Charlotte shifted in the seat as Louisa chatted with Faustus.

Snape had kept his appearances within the Dark Lord's ranks. He still went out monthly to have a drink with Lucius and the others and kept a relatively low-profile within the other side of the wizarding community. After all, no one knew what he had done.

Standing, Charlotte ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the softness of her tresses and found a smile flirting at the corners of her lips.

Charlotte could keep up her appearances, too. If Louisa wanted to give Charlotte a makeover, that wouldn't be such a bad thing – to be seen with Louisa Rosier, whose brother had died for the Dark Lord's cause – could give her just the right amount of cover to remain in good graces should he ever return.

"The White Wyvern!"

Louisa called down the dark turn towards Knockturn Alley, exchanging her previously vice-like grip on Charlotte's wrist to be joined at the elbows.

"Did you put them in?"

Charlotte raised a brow at Louisa's question, brought back from her thoughts.

"Put what in?"

Louisa groaned and dragged Charlotte towards the toilets.

"I put a pair in your bag, silly girl."

For the second time that evening, Charlotte found herself squashed into a stall – this one made smaller by the commode – with Louisa as the blue-eyed witch began digging through Charlotte's handbag.

"Put a pair of what?"

A shriek erupted from her mouth as Louisa's hand plunged down the front of Charlotte's dress.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Giving you boobs," Louisa retorted hotly, before stepping back to stare at her handiwork.

Charlotte stared down at her chest, and scowled, "You gave me boobs. Why?"

"Just because you're married, Charlie, doesn't mean you can't have a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun?" Charlotte deadpanned.

Louisa had shoved a pair of inserts into her bra, and while Charlotte surmised that the dress did appear a bit more form-fitting now, she questioned the price of it.

Severus would be horrified, she thought as Louisa adjusted her work.

Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing.

A grin spread across her mouth and Charlotte's hands darted up to cover it.

"Don't you dare!"

Louisa snatched Charlotte's wrists, "You smile all you want tonight, darling. I'm taking you out."

An eruption of laughter escaped Charlotte's lips as Louisa joined her, dragging her from the stall to be leered at by a particularly gruesome looking wizard. Their giggles echoed across the darkness of Knockturn Alley, growing louder with each storefront passed until the two had desperately dissolved into tear-streaming snickers in front of the pub.

"Okay, game plan," Louisa quickly wiped her cheeks, "Give it to me."

"To drink," Charlotte said slowly.

"To drink _until_ we are suitably and strongly inebriated."

"Yes."

"Until we are so drunk that apparation is entirely impossible and we must make the shame ride home in the Knight Bus."

Charlotte nodded.

"I will likely have to sleep over."

Charlotte agreed.

"To whiskey!"

"To wine!"

"And all the alcohol we can find!"

The pair dissolved in laughter, growing suspicious glances from leaving patrons.

Charlotte followed Louisa into the pub, her cheeks aching.

She could not recall the last time she had felt the sensation.

Her eyes followed Louisa as she side-stepped drunken wizards and inebriated witches, singing along with the ballad crying out from a radio.

It began with a pair of smoking shot glasses, brimming with Blishen's firewhiskey.

Later, Charlotte doubted that even under the influence of veritaserum could she divulge exactly what had followed.

* * *

There you are, lovelies! Chapter Nine is done!

I am currently working on Chapter Ten, and I hope I will upload it before the weekend ends. Keep and eye out and remember to hit that follow button for update alerts!

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	10. Chapter 10

Shout Out to the following reviewers for their lovely comments this past weekend!

killingcurse719, convalla91, YellowAsphodel, and Guests! Thank you. Your reviews truly make my day and my boyfriend is getting a little sick of me shoving my review notifications in his face :) It's a nice problem to have!

* * *

Chapter Ten

"Did you see the way that _man_ was looking at _me_?"

Louisa balanced herself aimlessly on Charlotte's shoulder as the dark-hair witch struggled with the Spinner's End house gate.

"He was looking at like I was some kind of _pasty_, Charlie, like a _pumpkin bloody pasty_."

Charlotte, previously focused on her task of ensuring Lou did not faceplant to the sidewalk, freed the gate from its latch and promptly tipped forward.

A now tangled assortment of limbs and strewn handbag innards littered the walkway to Charlotte's front door.

"How did we end up here?"

Louisa's soft voice interrupted the silence, and Charlotte stuffed her hand over the blue-eyed witch's mouth.

"**Shhh**," she hiccupped, "You'll wake up Sev."

"_SEVERUS_?"

Louisa broke free of Charlotte's constraints and had begun screaming. For a fleeting moment, Charlotte's pickled mind questioned whether they had put up a silencing charm and suddenly hoped that Severus had as Louisa caterwauled in the general direction of the front door.

"You married Snape, Charlie," Louisa snickered as Charlotte began crawling towards the door, "_Snape_."

"Well, you didn't marry anyone," Charlotte retorted, her voice slurred and hot, "So there."

"No one is good enough for me!"

Charlotte seized the railing leading to her front porch and began to heave herself to her feet, suddenly grateful for her weight loss.

"Did you see the way that _man_ was looking at _me_?"

The railing slipped from Charlotte's grasp as the witch dissolved into a fit of snickering.

"Like a pasty?"

"Like a bloody pumpkin pasty, Charlie!"

It was likely a spectacle, if anyone had been awake to witness it.

Louisa, sprawled across the lawn as she shoved handfuls of grass and sickles into her purse while Charlotte had begun hugging the cool railing in her arms, surrendering for a few moments to waves of inebriation. The pair chortling laughter loud enough – Charlotte was now sure that there was a silencing charm on the house – to wake the entire neighborhood.

They had started the evening with Blishen's Firewhiskey, shot glasses brimming with the smoky liquor. But try as she could, Charlotte was not entirely certain what had come afterward. She could only distantly recall someone ordering the Knight Bus for them with instruction to take the drunken pair home, and that on the bus a wizard had been enraptured by Louisa.

Afterwards, in between, and before were all relatively fuzzed out.

"_**SEVERUS!**_"

Charlotte threw up a hand to silence the screaming witch somewhere on the lawn behind her, but it was perhaps several minutes too late, for the front door had begun opening. Slowly, for her neck felt more like gelatin than it had ever had before, Charlotte lifted her face into the stern, narrowed eyes of her husband.

"Severus!"

She hiccupped, and Severus's eyes turned to Louisa, whom was still making her slow crawl across the wet front lawn towards the door.

When the wizard had turned back to her, Charlotte's face split into a warm smile, "Severus!"

Severus scowled.

He seemed to deliberate for a moment what to do with two impossibly inebriated women in his yard. His dark eyes shifted between Louisa, who had moved herself to a sitting position in front of the hedges, and Charlotte, who was still hugging a staircase rail.

Severus leaned forward and scooped Charlotte into his arms as though she weighed little more than a pillow and carried her into the house. Carefully, he deposited her onto the sofa before returning to the yard.

Charlotte noted that her husband was already in his sleeping clothes, but the teapot was out and steaming. She couldn't smell what Snape had been drinking – her own boozy breath obstructed most of her sense of smell – but he had evidently been waiting up for her.

When the dark-haired wizard returned, he had tossed Louisa over his shoulder in a much more haphazard way than he had carried his wife.

"You do not move," His voice dripped with disdain, "Not a centimeter."

Charlotte's mouth opened to let loose another hiccup.

It seemed to take a while, and Charlotte squirmed upon the seat of the sofa. She wanted to take her shoes off, but Severus had instructed her not to move.

She stiffened.

The stickiness of her leather skirt combined with the thin sheet of sweat on her thighs made her skin itch, and Charlotte began counting in her mind. If he was not back within the next thirty seconds, she decided, she would scratch it.

"_HE'S COMING DOWN, CHARLIE_!"

Louisa's shriek echoed down the staircase, and Charlotte heard her husband pause upon the stairwell.

Charlotte wondered if he regretted every part of their arrangement.

By the time he had appeared before her, Charlotte had counted to thirty-two, allowing him an additional ten seconds.

"Can I scratch an itch?"

Severus's face seemed to be in a great struggle. His mouth was twitching, but his eyes remained still in their clear disapproval and evident contempt.

"You may," He allowed.

Quickly, Charlotte hiked her hand beneath her skirt and scratched feverously at her thigh.

She watched him go back to the kitchen and take a swallow of his tea before going through the drawers where he kept a few stores.

"No potions!"

He paused and looked up from his work, "You've scraped your knees, Charlotte. Do you not want any dittany for it?"

Charlotte chewed her lip, "Only dittany?"

"And some tea."

She watched him as she nodded, and he fetched a small tin from the drawer and made his way towards her.

Severus was a bit handsome, she decided, as he kneeled in front of her and began to work a paste onto her skinned knees. His fingers carefully smoothed the butter-yellow mixture over her abrasions, and she sipped her tea as they slowly began to sew themselves shut.

"You're a bit handsome," she found her mouth forming the words, and slapped her hands over her mouth as a laugh broke free.

Dark eyes lifted up to her with a cocked brow, and Charlotte focused her own gaze on the ceiling. She had never noticed the watermarks there, she decided, and chose to stare pointedly up at them.

"How much did you drink, Charlotte?"

There was a niffler in the watermark. Charlotte made out the long lines of its nose within the dark stain.

"Charlotte?"

"Firewhiskey."

Severus interrupted her line of vision, "That isn't what I asked."

Charlotte lost herself for several moments in his dark eyes.

His mouth opened, but the words missed her ears as she carefully measured her breathing.

Even his hair wasn't that greasy, she noted, but rather incredibly shiny; raven-black, she decided as it caught the lightbulb's glare.

Snape was frowning now.

He was always frowning.

"Why are you always frowning?"

The words erupted from her mouth before she could stop them, and she smiled sheepishly up at her husband. Charlotte was unsure if it were her words or the whiskey that had heated her face and made her cheeks blister.

Exasperated, Severus's face was drawn once again into a scowl and he took the seat next to her.

"Would you like to sleep here, or upstairs?"

Charlotte ignored his question and turned to him, supposing now that she was permitted to move freely under his watchful stare.

"You didn't answer me."

Severus scowled once more, and Charlotte questioned if she had ever seen him smile.

"You should smile more," Charlotte slurred, slumping back into her seat, "I bet you're ravishing when you smile," she dissolved into fits of giggles, recalling Lou's own words in Faustus' salon.

"I do not particularly care to be ravishing, Charlotte."

"Why not? You'd look better with a smile, just as I look better with these fake boobs Lou's given me."

For a moment, Charlotte supposed her husband looked alarmed.

"Louisa has done what?"

"Given me a set of fake girls," Charlotte reached down the front of her dress as Severus admirably turned his head, and fished out her inserts, "See?"

Severus watched her toss the inserts to the coffee table, precariously close to his steaming cup of tea, before his eyes slowly turned to set back upon her.

"Why has she done this?"

"To get a rise out of the lads," Charlotte waved her hand, "But you ought to smile more."

The wizard snorted, reaching to take a swallow of his tea, "I have no need for flirtatious attentions."

"Everyone needs a good flirt, Sev," she commented as she reached down to kick off her heels.

The liquor was tapering off now, she supposed, or perhaps Severus had snuck a draught into her cup of oolong.

"You've never had that problem, as I recall."

Charlotte snorted as she deposited the crushed velvet pumps against the coffee table.

"Why? Because I married Regulus?"

"The wolf seems keen to return to your lessons," Severus answered instead, "Quite keen."

A laugh exploded from Charlotte's lips, "You think I have something with Lupin?"

Severus frowned, and stared at the dead fireplace in front of them.

Charlotte supposed it could look that way. Remus did typically arrive earlier than scheduled for their lessons and stayed long after they had ended. To an outside perspective, it likely looked suspicious.

In truth, Remus simply had nothing else to do.

He had been laid off from his job due to his numerous sick days from Flourish & Blott's and was now renting a room in the Leaky Cauldron for more than he could practically afford. Charlotte doubted the odd and end jobs he received from the Order paid much, and suspected that he likely lived entirely on the money she paid him for her lessons.

"He will never understand you," Severus said quietly, "He's not capable of it."

"And I suppose that you do."

Severus's dark eyes were upon her, boring into her warmed face, "Yes, I do."

"What do you think you understand?"

"You've been faking it at your lessons," Severus leaned back into the sofa, "I've noticed."

Charlotte felt the color slowly draining from her face and her consciousness being brought abruptly forward, "What?"

"You've been faking your lessons. Pretending to have the effort, but you're barely putting any in."

Charlotte watched Severus raise a finger and press it to his temple.

"You truly have become abysmal at Legilimency, Charlotte."

"I have not-!" Charlotte began hotly but Severus raised a palm littered in silvery scars.

"Yes, you have. At both your lessons and Legilimency."

She stewed for several moments on the sofa, before tucking her legs under her.

"When did you notice?"

During her lessons with Remus, Severus had always been in the basement. He had been determined to wreak new methods of torture upon the 'idiots' Dumbledore put in his dungeons, and Charlotte had always surmised that the potions master was too busy to listen in above his head.

She had presumably been wrong.

"The first day."

Charlotte frowned, "Why haven't you said anything?"

"Because that wolf cannot help you."

Severus glanced at her before rising and fished her teacup from her fingers. He made his way back to the kitchen.

"What do you mean, Remus can't help me?"

"Precisely what I've said."

Charlotte watched as he carefully topped off their cups and did not protest when he dribbled a vial into what was presumably hers. He made a quick show of adding sugar to hers – as she liked it – and returned back to the sofa.

"Then what am I supposed to do? I can't just sit in this house forever, I'll go mad."

Severus snorted, "I think you might be halfway there."

As Charlotte attempted to work out whether or not Severus Snape had just made an actual joke, Severus turned his eyes on her once more.

"I'll be returning to Hogwarts in three weeks."

Dread began to fill her belly.

"I know."

"If you will permit it, I will begin working with you once more."

Charlotte blinked, "What?"

"In addition to your fraying abilities in Legilimency, I believe there are alternative treatments available."

"Such as?"

"We will be working with a pensieve."

A pensieve.

Charlotte recalled the wide basin the Dark Lord had used in his office. She had caught glimpses of the images it possessed when she had gone to receive instruction. On occasion, she had been instructed to use it to provide evidence to the Dark Lord she had performed the tasks once completed.

It was a distasteful arrangement, she had recalled, delving into the deep to watch alongside her hooded master.

She could feel Severus probing at the edge of her mind, and in a moment, she had dropped the grate defense he had taught her to envision, effectively locking her mind.

"You've grown careless," Severus finished his tea, "I taught you better than that."

Severus rinsed their cups and walked with her up the stairs, passing her bedroom where Louisa snored loudly.

He stopped at the bedroom door and watched as she carefully tip-toed into his bedroom.

She stopped and turned to the doorway as she heard him shift, "Severus?"

The wizard paused, his fingers still brushing the brass doorknob.

"What will we do when you go back to Hogwarts?"

Severus cleared his throat, "I have made arrangements for Minerva so that I may return during holiday. Is this acceptable?"

Something had lodged itself in Charlotte's throat, "Yes, that would be nice."

Severus nodded and closed the bedroom door.

As Charlotte threw her dress off and slithered between the sheets, she closed her eyes and made a valiant effort not to smile. It was useless, and the expression pulled her lips. Burying her face into the pillow, she took deep breaths, smelling her husband's shampoo.

It was an unexpected surprise, that Snape would come home during the holidays. She had been dreading spending the school year at Spinner's End alone. The holidays had never brought anything to look forward to. A soft laugh escaped her as she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

In the dark corners of her mind, a presence probed at the delight and caught glimpses of her smile.

Charlotte didn't slam the gate on Severus, but rather let him explore the soft frayed edges of what had once been a carefully organized consciousness, and drifted to sleep to the soft pull of him replaying the smile she had pressed into his pillows, feeling the lull of the firewhiskey and the soft pull of the draught.

* * *

There we are for Chapter 10! :) Thank you all for keeping me motivated, and I'm glad you love the story this far.

As always, your reviews make me want to do cartwheels but I'm gravity challenged so I'll just imagine them.

I am in the search of a beta reader for this story, if you have any recommendations please reach out to me via PM, or if you are interested in doing some beta reading yourself. You will have my undying gratitude.

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	11. Chapter 11

I'm currently in an extended hotel with shitty internet waiting for my apartment to be ready and for my new job to start making sense. I absolutely abhor writing on my Chromebook, but I'm making due with Google Docs until I'm set up at home. I promise that updates will come more regularly and I throw myself at your mercy for forgiveness.

Please enjoy Chapter 11.

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_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

_The smoky carcass of a grand town home sent tendrils of soot towards the London night sky. Charlotte overstepped the charred remnants of what had been an 18th century executive desk - a gift from Walburga for Regulus' promotion - and peered down in the smoldering remains illuminated by her wand._

"_See anything?"_

_Somewhere behind her, Louisa called out softly in the night. Their voices remained hushed, though the Death Eaters had come and gone hours ago. In a fit of desperation - or perhaps stupidity - Charlotte had come to inspect the bones of her home. _

_Shining out between blackened beams and glowing embers, a glitter caught her eye. _

"_Over here," Charlotte called in a whisper._

_Louisa climbed over a fallen banister and the pair of schoolmates observed the preserved paperweight sitting in the dust._

"_Go on, add it to the bag."_

"_It belonged to Regulus." _

"_Do you want it?"_

_Charlotte looked at the paperweight. She recalled the day she had spotted it in Knockturn Alley, glittering in the window of Borgin and Burke's. It was rumored to bring good luck to its owner, and it had been nestled alongside a disgusting Hand of Glory. Sizable and appropriately expensive, she had supposed it would be a suitable gift to a graduating Slytherin, with a tiny sterling-silver serpent suspended in gold-leaf littered glass. It peered out to her with its genuine-emerald eyes, and she had purchased it without much of a thought. _

_Now it lay in the rubble, nearly untouched._

_Charlotte's throat began to burn - not from the slow, deep breaths of smoke she inhaled over the last hours searching the rubble for anything of worth - but the burn of a coal residing snugly in her esophagus._

"_He'd want you to have it, Charlie."_

_A sob spit out of her mouth, and her sooty hands caught her face as her eyes leaked the tears that had been held since the first spells were cast and caught, building a roaring symphony of flames that had engulfed her home and her house elf. _

Severus was watching her as she forced herself out of the pensieve's grasp. She gasped for air and for several moments could still smell the charcoal that had lingered in the air, feel the heat that had radiated through her shoes.

"Was it that moment?"

Charlotte shook her head, still choking for her breath to return to her lungs.

Over two weeks had passed since her hen night with Louisa in Knockturn Alley. No more than a day had passed - giving her enough time to nurse her hangover - before Severus had begun his grueling new regimen.

It had begun with compiling a list of memories.

Perhaps at first, Severus's plan had appeared innocent enough. Charlotte was of enough intelligence to surmise that Severus simply wanted to know the most traumatic events she had experienced. Compiling a list was not terribly inconvenient, and Charlotte had gone about her normal day with a roll of parchment haphazardly shoved into her pocket to add to throughout her day.

She had not dwelt on her responses, nor had she particularly given much thought to the memories she chose. They had varied greatly - from the time she was informed of her parents' deaths and her first nights in the Black house on Grimmauld Street, to her first successful possession.

Charlotte supposed now that she should have been more selective.

For thirteen days, Charlotte had spent the better part of six hours diving into the pensieve Severus had purchased in London. It had been a relatively pretty basin - carefully formed tiles of mother of pearl, rimmed with a thick lip of silver.

Looking at it now as she struggled to breathe, Charlotte supposed she had never seen any object look more heinous.

They had passed the awkward stages of Severus's new regimen for her recovery. There had been moments that Charlotte would have preferred to remain out of her husband's knowledge - the day she had first come to the Black house the first of them - and Severus's mood shifted and altered greatly with each passing day.

Memories which contained any murmur of Sirius - and there were many - resulted in Severus remaining in his basement for the entirety of the evening.

But those which contained Severus - perhaps just as many - commonly resulted in Severus remaining in the living room for several hours to complete his lesson plans, rather than his typical descent.

Charlotte worried her lip each time Severus instructed her to pull a memory from her mind. She carefully thought of each second that would be cut from it, and the analysis that would be completed afterwards.

For if Severus appeared to dislike Charlotte displaying images of Sirius, he loathed any memory that hinted at her relationship with him.

Severus peered at her as she calmed herself, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest.

"Was it that moment?" Her husband repeated himself.

Charlotte shook her head, her body trembled.

"To the next," Severus turned to the pensieve, "I leave for Hogwarts in six days."

Despite her best efforts, Charlotte could not shake the anxiety which spilled over her skin and filled her belly at the thought of him leaving.

If Severus noticed, he pretended not to.

"Which one is next?"

Severus peered at the parchment. It would be their last journey into the basin for the evening, and Charlotte hoped that it was a good one. Tonight, she decided, she needed his company.

"The day Sirius was arrested."

Charlotte felt nauseous.

She shook her head and stepped towards the pensieve despite this.

For despite her lack of effort with Remus - which was proving to become more and more difficult to hide - Charlotte wanted to get better.

She wanted to stop blowing up their tea pot and the other errant explosions that erupted during her daily activity. For once - the thought caused a wave of warmth to spill over her - she wanted to sit on the sofa with Severus and be able to read an entire article in the Daily Prophet without causing the paper to catch fire.

As much as she hated the basin - and she truly loathed it - Charlotte wanted it all to end.

"Prepare yourself," Severus's voice was icy.

_Charlotte flipped through a copy of the Daily Prophet. It was perhaps the last edition she had ever read front-to-back, and she was skimming through an article on the newest breach of security at the Ministry of Magic. _

_A knock thundered through the door of her room in the Leaky Cauldron._

_Charlotte paused in her reading, quietly folding the paper, and drew her wand._

_Her steps were calculated and measured as she approached the door and peered through the sickle-sized peep hole in the door._

_As she swung the door open, Severus stepped through._

"_Sirius Black has been spotted in London."_

_Alarm rang through her, and as it swept over her skin, it registered on her face._

"_Where?"_

_It had been nearly six months since she had seen Sirius. _

_Their infrequent meetings in her room had grown more infrequent as the search progressed for the 'murderer' Sirius Black. _

_Sirius had never forgiven her for becoming a Death Eater, but in the moments after several heavy glasses of fire whiskey, he could often forget it. _

_Charlotte dove for her cloak, shoving her feet haphazardly into her shoes. She didn't care if they were on the wrong feet, her fingers stretching to snag the charmed bag she took on Death Eater raids._

"_Charlotte, you cannot go there," Severus's voice was cold, "You will expose yourself." _

"_And just leave him there, Sev? We could hide him-!" _

"_There will never be a moment in my life in which I assist that filthy blood traitor." _

_Charlotte stared at him from across the sitting area of her room. Across the threadbare sofa, she could take note of the cold set of his mouth, but the burn of fire in his eyes._

"_Please help me," she whispered feverishly._

"_If you go, Charlotte, I will not come to prevent the aurors from arresting you. I need not remind you that our access to Azkaban has become increasingly narrow. If you go there, you will meet the dementor's kiss."_

_Charlotte hovered before the door, her fingers wrapped around the knob._

"_Don't go," she heard the wizard murmur softly. _

_Charlotte threw open the door._

_Her feet carried her down the winding staircase and into the London streets. Before she could catch her step from the Leaky Cauldron to the sidewalk, she was gone._

_As she cracked onto the sidewalk in London, her eyes craned for the sight of trench coats. It was rather stupid, she thought, that all of them appeared to have created a uniform of their own. _

_Sirius had been an auror trainee, before this nonsense started, he would spot them in an instant._

_It only took several moments for the next events to occur._

_She spotted Alastor Moody, sprinting down the sidewalk with his wand drawn._

_Her eyes caught the short fringe of black hair disappearing behind a dumpster._

_And perhaps mere milliseconds passed before her foot arched to begin her chase, and a body slammed her into the alley wall. _

_Charlotte caught the scream that threatened to erupt from her mouth as she heard the aurors begin the cacophony of curses thrown down the street. She could envision their pursuit as she struggled against the body which held her firmly to the wall._

_Strangled sounds slithered from her lips as she shoved and squirmed. They sounded inhuman, almost animalistic in their wails._

_Her eyes caught those of her captor, and she froze._

_Severus stared at her, his body caged around hers. His chest heaved with the effort to keep her contained, his fingers dug into her shoulders like grappling hooks. For the first time, she noticed his eyes were not entirely black, but sewn with specks of silver and gray._

"_Let me go," she sobbed relentlessly, "Let me go to him."_

"_For once in your miserable life, Charlotte, pick yourself."_

"_He needs me, Sev. Let me go!"_

"_If you find yourself incapable of this burden, then I will carry it for you."_

_Only a moment or two passed before she felt herself being crushed against his chest as she attempted to claw her way through his impenetrable grip and the familiar pull from her navel as Severus apparated them from the war erupting on the street._

As Charlotte spilled out from the pensieve, she did not look up at Severus.

She felt the chill hanging in the air like a fog.

"Was it that moment?"

Severus spoke coldly, his voice frigid.

"No."

In several moments he would descend to the basement, not to reappear until she had closed herself into her bedroom. She would spend those hours alone, staring at the door she could not walk through.

It would be another long evening.

There were seven days left before Severus returned to Hogwarts to begin preparing for the new school year. They had completed his lesson plans days ago. Severus did not confine himself to his study for any purpose now other than when he was determined to avoid her.

Charlotte did not want to be avoided anymore.

"Why did you come, that day?"

Her voice was a soft murmur in the dark as Severus lit the living room. His footsteps were measured, his face already turned towards the doorway.

"There were aurors everywhere. Even if you were already working for Dumbledore, they would have arrested you - for helping me."

Severus returned the heinous basin to its cabinet.

"I always wondered that - why you came. It never added up to me, after all these years. The Dark Lord was gone. You had struck your deal with Dumbledore."

He closed the cabinet, but did not move.

"I was just another Death Eater."

As he turned his focus seemed to be on anything in the room but her.

Charlotte persisted, seeing him leer at the basement door.

"I wasn't worth anything to you."

Severus had crossed the room with relative ease, but at her words his fingers closed the door they had begun to draw open.

"What did you just say?"

"I wasn't worth anything to you. I was just your protege. I wasn't worth anything anymore."

"Is that what you think?"

Her husband was peering at her now, with the strangest expression upon his drawn, stern face.

For a moment, she wondered if she had ever seen Severus look incredulous before.

"You said it, that night. When we got back to the Leaky Cauldron."

His face turned passive, "I did not."

"You gave me a calming draught and told me to go to bed, but I wouldn't stop crying," even now her eyes burned, "And you told me that I was worthless."

Severus straightened, his eyes narrowing, "I have _never _called you worthless."

"You did, though, that night."

"You are mistaken."

"Then what did you say? Because I'm confused, Severus. You tell me that you want me here, and that you don't want me to run off to Boston. You say I'm supposed to be useful here, and I'm trying to get better. But you're leaving in a week, and I'm going to be here all alone! Why should I stay?"

Charlotte's chest heaved as the words left her throat in a scratchy, heated jumble.

"Just go on, then," She found herself continuing, unable to stop the verbal vomit that spilled from her mouth and had reduced her husband's eyes to slits, "Go on. I'll just stay here and be useless."

She was crying now, the hot tears leaking from the corners of her eyes to dribble and collect at her jawline. Charlotte supposed she had never felt more idiotic in her life.

Her husband crossed the living room and opened the cabinet. Rather than draw forth the mother-of-pearl basin that by sight could make her skin crawl, he pulled forth the bronze one beneath it.

Severus drew a silvery line from his temple to his wand tip. He reached and roughly grabbed her wrist to drag her to the bowl.

"I have never called you worthless," he snarled, before shoving her in.

_Severus watched as Charlotte dribbled the doctored whiskey down her chin._

_Her choked sobs caught with each sip._

_"Why did you do that," the witch's voice left her mouth in shuddering cries._

_Severus's fists clenched._

_"Drink the fucking draught, Charlotte."_

_The witch continued to choke down the dosed liquor. With each swallow, her trembles began to slow, her breath began to even._

_"I never suspected you of such worthless behavior."_

_Charlotte's eyes continued to stream. _

_"I expect better from you. I require better from you."_

_"I'm not worthless," she sobbed as the calming draught took hold, "I need him."_

_"Go to bed," Severus snarled as he threw himself down on to the threadbare sofa, "Your nonsense is tiring me."_

_Severus watched his fists clench and release, his knuckles whitening with every movement, striped with marks from Charlotte's nails._

_Charlotte remained silent._

_When her breathing slowed, he looked up to stare at her slumbering on the bed, her eyes still leaking._

_Severus smoothed her hair away from her forehead. _

_His thumbs caught the leaking tears from her lashes._

_"You are mine."_

Charlotte did not look at Severus as they left the pensieve, nor did she dare take her eyes from the close inspection of her shoes.

Silent tension filled the room as she wondered if she could apparate from that spot on the living room carpet to somewhere she could be entirely alone.

"That is why I came for you," his voice interrupted the silence with ice, "That is why you are here. That is why you will remain here."

Charlotte swallowed.

"Do you understand?"

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There we go! Chapter 11! This chapter was incredibly difficult for me to write. I rewrote it at least five times this week. So PLEASE let me know what you think because I'm genuinely tempted to rewrite it again...

Let me know what you think in the reviews section. Hit the Follow/Favorite buttons so you know when the next chapter is up.

Because I am on my Chromebook, I will not be calculating House Points in this chapter because I do not have my key (it's on my PC, still packed in the trenches of my Ubox rental). I will recalculate at the next update so do not forget to throw your House name in the comments for a chance to win the House Cup!


	12. Chapter 12

Hello lovelies! I'm sorry for the late post. It appears my moving company has lost my PC computer and my original documents, so I am reworking my plot map. Save the excuses, I will do my best to update as soon as I come home from my business trip! Thank you for your patience, and please enjoy Chapter 12!

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"No."

Severus furrowed his brow. Exasperation tugged at his lips and pulled them into a scowl, "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"No, I don't understand," Charlotte whispered.

Something was flopping about in her chest - like the sensation of attempting to blow a balloon with a hole in it. It fluttered there, slapping against her ribcage, and making her ears ring.

"I've never been like her, Severus. I'm not like her."

"What nonsense are you talking about now, Charlotte?"

"Lily."

The name hovered between them like a knife, ready to cut down the mangled balloon slapping in Charlotte's chest; the one that made his eyes look dark diamonds and gave sparks to her belly when she spotted him rolling his sleeves over toned, lean forearms.

In every one of their legilimency lessons, her face had sprung up in his mind. It was not often that Charlotte had been able to crack through the barriers to infiltrate her mentor's defenses. She could still recall her bottle-green eyes and the way sunlight caught that red hair, though Charlotte could count on two hands the number of times she had seen Lily Evans.

"I do not wish to talk of Lily Evans."

Charlotte questioned whether she should correct him.

_Lily __**Potter**__._

She recalled the day in Hogwarts when Severus had returned to the common room of Slytherin with bloodshot eyes and a streaming nose. She had heard the rumors of him standing for hours each day outside of Gryffindor's Fat Lady portrait, waiting for the redheaded girl to appear.

Back then, Charlotte supposed she had felt as though he were being foolish.

Perhaps it was not until she was watching Sirius become more and more a Gryffindor - more of James' - than he was hers. She could still remember the moment she realized that Sirius no longer belonged to her. If Severus loved Lily as much, Charlotte supposed it would have been much the same.

"You never want to talk about much of anything, Severus," Charlotte replied instead.

Her voice was soft and if the wizard had not been staring directly at her, he would not have heard her.

Severus watched her, "What would you like to talk about, Charlotte?"

A stone had lodged itself into her throat, encumbering her ability to swallow and stretching the muscles at the back of her mouth. Charlotte did not want to cry again - it irritated him, clearly - but her eyes could not work collectively enough to keep the welling of tears at bay.

"You married me to get back at Sirius. You keep me here because I'm _yours_. But why am I supposed to stay, Severus? We served our purposes to one another. You don't owe me anything. _I wanted things in this life_. I wanted them so badly I killed for them. Now, I have _nothing_," her voice had gone shrill, rising octaves that stung her ears and heated her cheeks.

"You hardly have nothing," Severus scoffed.

A flutter of rage flapped against her.

"_Money_? You think I care about how much _money_ I have?"

"You have never wanted for anything, Charlotte."

If Charlotte had noticed the goosebumps crawling from her elbows, she would have stopped herself.

She would have known better.

"I wanted a family," her voice snarled, "I wanted a family more than anything in this world! You _had_ one with those idiots in Slytherin. You had one with the Dark Lord. Fuck, you even have one with _Dumbledore_!"

"Do you want to see my childhood, Charlotte? It wasn't crushed-velvet comforters and Walburga sending her house elf up each night to give me hot milk," Severus's voice was raising into a thunderous octave, "Do you want to see it?"

The fireplace flames had begun to climb, the heat within was nearly unbearable.

But Charlotte could not stop herself.

"You had Lily," Charlotte stepped forward and shoved her index finger into her husband's chest.

"Lily is dead, Charlotte," Severus's eyes were thin slits, "And I had been dead to her for years."

"So please do not presume to ask me if I understand what you mean when you say that I am _yours_ \- you've never fucking wanted me either, other than to satisfy some sick fantasy of revenge against Sirius Black."

It was just the fleeting feeling, like ice pressed to a burn that made her eyes widen.

"You belong to _me_," Severus was saying, but the witch could not hear him.

Unlike before, there was no fractionated reality. Charlotte saw nothing of what occured in the living room between their heated argument after that moment. She did not see Severus step towards her with an angry snarl across his face only to see that the whites of her eyes had turned obsidian, and that a thin tendril of black smoke had begun to slither from her chest.

Charlotte saw none of it.

It was warm in the abyss.

Her eyes opened to blackness

"Hello?" her voice echoed.

"Mummy?"

The feeling slammed into her without hesitation. It scorched her very bones.

A strangled noise escaped her mouth.

A black-haired boy peered up at her, and Charlotte supposed she had never wanted anything more in her lifetime.

"Mummy, where is daddy?"

Charlotte wanted to answer the boy, who was peering up at her with soft grey eyes, his wet thumb secured against his cheek. She wanted to touch him, her fingers ached as they stretched from her palms. Her voice remained caught in her throat, where a thousand pebbles suffocated her.

"Daddy!"

Charlotte wanted to turn as she felt familiar hands spread fingers over her hips and thick arms wrap around her waist. The firm body that pressed against her felt as soothing as a warm bath, and Charlotte never wanted to leave it.

She never wanted to know who it belonged to.

"C'mon Charlie, we'll be late. Lily will pitch a fit. Where are the boy's shoes?"

She would have known that voice from miles away, caught it in the screaming of a crowd.

Charlotte stared down at the tiny bare feet in front of hers, and begged for time to stand still, just this once.

"Love, come on! It's Christmas Eve! Even the floo is going to have traffic at this rate."

Sirius twisted her around, and his soft grey eyes turned her slowly thudding heart into a racehorse.

He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and released her, appearing to have found their son's trainers.

_Their son._

She followed him as he planted the boy on a bench and ruffled his hair.

"I want to see Uncle Prongs, Daddy," the boy giggled as Sirius tickled his tiny feet, "And Uncle Moony."

"Soon," Sirius promised, "We have to wait for mummy."

The pair suddenly stood in front of a fireplace.

It looked strangely like the one in 12 Grimmauld Street. She stepped forward to inspect it and saw photographs appearing on its ledge.

Charlotte had a family.

There were moving photographs of her and the child on a carousel, of Sirius and her kissing beneath a cherry-red bridge. Pictures of the boy and a little bespectacled toddler hugging on tiny broomsticks, and the boy nearly wringing the neck of an exceptionally curly black dog.

"Charlie, babe, let's go."

Sirius was holding out a dripping handful of powder.

It looked perhaps a bit off, she thought, as it oozed from between the fingers which held it out to her.

She hesitated.

"We have to tell James and Lily first, Charlie. I want them to know first."

"Tell them what?"

Her voice was breathless as it finally battled through the stones lodged in her esophagus.

"About the baby!"

The little boy giggled and reached out his hands to press against her belly.

"I hope this one's a girl," Sirius whispered in her ear, "I want her to look just like you."

He held out the oozing, ebony goo in his hand.

Charlotte reached for it.

In the abyss, it was warm.

Charlotte's eyes opened.

A pair of dark orbs, speckled in silver and gray stared down at her from a soot-streaked face. His short curtain of black hair surrounded the space between them.

Severus's body was caged around her, his hands pressing her wrists to the floor beneath them. His body trembled, and Charlotte could not look away from his eyes.

For a wail had begun in her throat, starting as small as a speck of sand as it worked its way up through her throat, turning to a pebble, a stone, until it spilled from her in a keening cry.

It scorched her eyelids, and streamed from her eyes. Her chest burned and ached, and her hands felt immeasurably empty.

"Let me go back," Her voice screamed out as she clawed her way from her husband, "Send me back."

Severus grabbed at her, crushing her back to his chest.

"I wanted it," she sobbed as he tightened his grip, "I needed it."

Charlotte did not care that there were seven other bodies in the room and that her summer dress was streaked with ashes and scorch marks. She did not care that her hair had been singed, or that her face - her body - was mottled with bruises.

"Let me go back, Sev, _let me go back_," she screamed, "I wanted them!"

Severus's arms were immobile in their vice-like grip. He did not appear to care as her fingernails dug into the tender flesh of his forearms.

Instead, her husband stood, dragging her with him.

"Lupin, get me a draught."

"You're going to drug her, Severus?"

Molly Weasley's voice trembled.

At the redhead's words, Charlotte screamed.

"Let me go back. _Let me go back_. _LET ME GO BACK_!"

Severus's hand clapped over her mouth as he began to drag her up the stairs. Her tears streamed over the backs of his fingers, leaking down his wrist.

They went past her bedroom, turning the hallway into his own. When her legs gave out from beneath her choked sobs, Severus caught the backs of her knees with his free arm and carried her shaking body.

He deposited her in the center of his wide bed.

"_Do. Not. Move_," his voice was velvet thunder.

Charlotte answered in a sob.

As he disappeared into a closet, Charlotte watched Lupin come in through the door carrying a vial. Her breath hitched and she found herself shaking her head.

"Lupin, turn around," barked Severus, returning from the closet.

Lupin obeyed, and Severus walked forward to pull off her singed summer dress. His fingers were gentle, but the fabric was stuck to her at her shoulder, and she stiffened as he pulled it from her flesh.

"No, don't look," he murmured as she turned her head, "Just keep looking at the door."

Charlotte nodded stiffly, and Severus carefully buttoned a long shirt over her torso.

"I want to go back, Sev," she whimpered as he took a vial from Lupin.

"Go back where, Charlie?"

Severus turned icy eyes onto Lupin, but carefully inspected the label of his vial and uncorked it.

"I had a family there," she hiccuped, "A real one. I had a real family, Moony."

Regulus's eyes widened, "Where?"

"Where I go. I had a family. The one I've always wanted," she croaked.

"You have a family here, Charlie," Lupin soothed, "You have Severus, and me, and Molly. A whole family is downstairs who loves you."

The noise that escaped her mouth was inhuman.

"Don't lie to me. No one down there loves me."

Lupin opened his mouth to argue, and Severus held up a hand.

"Everyone who has ever loved me is dead, Moony. Dead or just as good as dead."

Severus grabbed her chin and forced her to look in his eyes.

Her own streamed with hot tears.

"I am unlovable. _I am death_. I need to die, Severus."

His eyes narrowed, "No."

"Please let me go, Sev. Please. I don't want to be here anymore. I can't. I can't do it anymore."

Quickly, his fingers unhinged her jaw and shoved the vial in her mouth.

"You do not get that choice, Charlotte."

His hands held her mouth shut until she swallowed.

"I just want to go. Why won't you let me go?"

"Go to sleep, Charlotte."

"JUST LET ME GO!"

Her hands clapped over her ears as the wailing sobs erupted from her throat. It felt as though a scoop had been dug out of her chest, inserting a pain that would not leave.

Severus grabbed her hands and forced them in front of her.

"Look at me," he snarled and his eyes were narrowed slits.

Charlotte's body trembled, fighting the quick effects of the potion. She did not want her eyes to droop or her body to become limp.

She wanted to go back to the abyss, where it was warm, and where she was wanted.

Where she had a family.

"Is that what you want, Charlotte?"

Her eyes still streamed with scalding liquid, her jaw shook and twisted her lips.

Charlotte stared at the smoke as it began to bubble between her breasts.

"They want me to come back, Severus," she whimpered.

Severus looked at her hands and watched as the obsidian vapor inhaled and exhaled through her skin. It hovered on her fingertips, and hugged her palms before disappearing.

"Charlotte, an obscurus will taunt you with lies and promises," Severus said softly, "It wants to get out. You must remember that."

"_I HAD A FAMILY_!"

Her scream cut through the room, her sobs renewed in her throat.

"I had a family and you've stolen it from me - just like you've done everything - you turned me into a _monster_ for your sick and twisted revenge. _You used me_, just like they did."

Severus's eyes widened, and for a moment Charlotte questioned if she had imagined it.

"You lied - you said I mattered. You wanted me to understand," she was screaming now, unlike the shouting done hours before. The venom in her words burned her mouth and stung her tongue.

"Charlotte, Severus has taken care of you-!" Remus stepped forward to argue, his brows drawn.

"He took care to make me untouchable to anyone but himself!"

Remus watched her as she angrily palmed away her tears.

"You're no better than him," Charlotte hiccuped, "You're not better than him."

Severus had remained silent.

His eyes had never left her streaming ones, his hands still held vice grips on her wrists.

He dropped them and stood, turning his back on her.

"If you feel this way," his voice was velvet thunder, "When I leave for Hogwarts in six days, you will pack your things and leave."

"You don't have to wait," Charlotte spat, "I'll leave in the morning."

Severus stood, his back to her for several moments as Remus stared in disbelief.

"Would you like a divorce, then?"

"I'll send you the damn papers," she snarled.

As Severus left the room, for a moment Charlotte's anger froze. She listened to his footsteps across the creaking wood floor and her breath hitched.

Perhaps she wanted him to argue - to throw Remus from the room and demand they hold no more grudges - or perhaps she wanted him to say he was sorry. Perhaps she wanted him to beg for her to stay, to insist or demand she not leave the house, threaten her.

But Severus Snape had never begged a soul for his own desires, and words said could not be unspoken now.

* * *

I hope you loved or hated it! Please let me know what you think in the reviews. They truly make my day.

Now, make sure to drop your house name in the reviews - I will be counting them all up this week and renewing the House Cup!

Show your House pride!


	13. Chapter 13

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

I have written an extra-long chapter for you to make up for it, and I'm halfway through fourteen. Real life caught up to me this month between work, school, settling into our new place... but my moving company FOUND MY COMPUTER!

Enjoy Chapter 13!

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"Charlie."

At the baseboard, wallpaper curled and cracked. It was a pretty pattern, Charlotte thought to herself, dotted with tuberose and froths of violets. A woman had obviously picked it – Severus's mother, perhaps – and it was showing its age. She had the itching desire to pull it from the wall.

"You need to go downstairs and speak with Severus calmly."

Charlotte didn't need to do anything.

Remus had not moved from where his feet had cemented to the scratched wood floor.

"Where are you going to go, Charlie? Did you think about that?"

She remained silent, the burns at her body beginning to sting and throb.

"The Order has warded this home. You've been safe here."

Charlotte wanted to tell him that she never felt safe.

The wards put in place by the Order of the Phoenix may have protected her from muggles – from seeing, hearing, or smelling the aftereffects of her fits – but it did nothing to protect her from what laid within.

A storm brewed beneath her skin.

She could feel it pressing against the follicles of her arm hairs as she lay awake in bed, it stirred above the pads of her feet as she paced the hallways. It felt a bit like walking through a thick fog, a misty cloud that smothered and stifled the noise within. It hummed, starting as low and soft as a bumble bee in her ears.

It was getting louder.

Sometimes, if she looked quickly enough, she could see the smoke descending from the tips of her hair, filling the space between her skin and fingernails, dripping from her nose when she stepped from the shower.

It was exhausting, she had realized, to war against something that could not be held.

It was getting smarter.

The hammering of her heart had slowed. Her angry breaths had evened. She could see now; how manipulative it was. But the acid of her words hung in her mouth like a slow burn. Her eyes replayed the fractional seconds of emotion on her husband's stoic face, the subtle narrow of his eyes.

"You cannot replicate these wards, Charlie, and I do not think the Order would be supportive of you leaving Severus," Remus said softly, "I think it's best that you stay here, and come to an understanding with Severus."

An understanding.

Charlotte wondered how often Snape walked down the narrow sidewalks of Spinner's End from his trips to Diagon Alley and slowed his strides. She wondered how long he tried to make his trips to the apothecary count, perusing each aisle and inspecting every millimeter of his potions ingredients. She wondered if he stopped for tea in the café or stopped in the White Wyvern for a butterbeer.

Anything to lengthen his time away from home.

She wondered how enthusiastically he was looking to his return to Hogwarts. The peace that would come within its stone walls, sitting along the staff table in the Great Hall without the obligation to make small talk with someone he could not decide his feelings for.

"I can go to Walburga."

"You and I both know that would be no resolution."

"She loves me."

"She loved the idea of you bringing status to her family, Charlie. She loved that you married one of her sons – the _right_ one, for her – and that you brought some semblance of variety into their incest."

Charlotte closed her eyes tightly.

"Why would you leave? Does Severus mistreat you in some way?"

"No," she whispered, and hated that her voice cracked.

"I think you have built an idolization of Sirius in your head, Charlie. Walburga won't want you to come back to Grimmauld Place, no matter how much she loved you as a child. Your purpose to her was used. I was Sirius' friend in school, I know what happened in that house."

A tension was building in her throat, constricting around her esophagus.

"Sirius was not everything. He was flawed. He was selfish at times and obsessed with appearances. Do you remember, that he wouldn't even hold your hand in the hallways? He didn't want to lose his popularity in Gryffindor, on the Quidditch team. He called it 'fraternizing with the enemy'."

"Stop, Remus."

"He made you cry a lot. When you came to James' and Lily's, after they bought the place in Godric's Hollow, do you remember?"

She frequently tried not to.

"I remember. He wasn't always good to you. He often mistreated you. But you've told me that Severus hasn't done this, and from what I see, he treats you well. You've gained some weight back, and some color."

"I want a family."

Remus quieted.

"All I've ever wanted is a family, Moony. I don't have one anymore. Severus will never give me that."

Her fingers stretched, imagining pulling the peeling paper from the wall.

"I tried to have one anyway, you know. After Regulus died. He had wanted to wait until the war was over. But then he died, so I tried to have one anyways."

"I didn't know that," Remus whispered softly.

"I don't think most people do. Just Louisa, and them."

"Them?"

"I could never quite tell whose it was."

Remus remained silent.

"We had a raid, in the Ministry of Magic. My last one. Sirius was there, and you, James. I could see you, I kept trying to stay away. Severus could see that. He could see that I was distracted."

Charlotte shrugged, ignoring the pain that shot through the singed nerves in her shoulder.

"But then Moody killed Evan Rosier, and I wanted to bring him back for Louisa. So, I went for him, and Marlene McKinnon rebounded Severus's severing curse."

"And hit you."

"Yes, it hit me. I didn't notice it right away. I brought Evan back for Louisa."

"Why didn't you go to hospital?"

Charlotte rolled to stare at him, and watched the realization widen his eyes.

"They tried to fix me up – Louisa, Severus, and Rabastan. But they couldn't fix everything."

"You were pregnant."

"I hadn't told anyone but Louisa, and them. I didn't want to say anything after."

"Do you blame Severus?"

Often, she questioned whether she did. He had been watching her, looking over her. His eyes had frequently crossed the marbled lobby of the Ministry to catch her wand arching, gauging the moment he would need to intervene.

"No. I should've left him. We were supposed to leave him there, but I couldn't do that to Lou."

"Do you blame Louisa?"

"Of course not."

Remus sat on the foot of Severus' wide bed, and stared at his hands, clasped in his lap, still streaked with soot.

"I think you should talk this out with Severus, Charlie. You never know. He may be open to the idea of starting a family. He cares for you. You can't convince me otherwise. Snape has never bothered much with the feelings of others, but he has always been careful to discuss what you've disclosed to him. I believe he does it for your benefit."

Charlotte sat up, "Severus doesn't want a family."

"How do you know, if you don't talk about it with him?"

She rolled her eyes, "From the beginning, Moony, he said this would never turn into something it wasn't. We married for a purpose. There was no love in it, no affection. We haven't even had sex. Our marriage is entirely unconsummated."

Remus blinked, his cheeks coloring.

"Don't be such a prude, Moony."

"I just thought-…" he laughed nervously, "I'm just surprised."

"Severus doesn't want a family. He loved – he _loves_ \- Lily."

"He might change his mind."

Charlotte could hear the doubt in Remus' voice, and felt her eyes sting.

Severus wouldn't change his mind. She knew that. The remnants of his love for Lily hovered between them like shrapnel. Neither of them wanted to cross the devastation of it.

"It's gotten so much smarter, Moony. It's as if it knows everything, and it's getting so loud. It keeps slipping out," She whispered softly, "And I'm getting exhausted."

Remus reached across the bed to place a firm hand on her knee, "We'll beat it, Charlie."

"I don't know how," her voice cracked.

"You need to start making an effort in your lessons. I know they're frustrating, and I know that Snape has started his own regimen with you. But first, you need to go talk to Snape."

Charlotte blinked away the stinging in her eyes, "I said horrible things to him, Moony."

"You were angry."

"He looked so _real_. I could smell him, that stupid muggle cologne he always wore. I could feel the heat on his skin. I'd forgotten it."

"That _cologne_. He'd reek up the whole dormitory with it," Remus laughed softly.

"It was quite nice, though. You'd have to admit it."

"I'll admit to stealing a spray or two."

The pair laughed quietly together.

"Do you want me to fix you up?"

Remus gestured to the slow spread of red on the shirt's shoulder, the long hem still showing blistered legs.

"No, Snape will do it."

They sat quietly together; Remus's hand still firm on her knee. It was a comfortable silence, one that had melted some of the tension and dissipated the hostility hovering in the air.

"What's it like?"

"The obscurus?"

Charlotte nodded.

She had wondered what it looked like, outside the illusions it played in her mind.

"The first time, it was frightening. Everything was catching on fire, exploding."

A wince flickered across her face.

"We've fixed it up. Adjusted some memories, it was in the Daily Prophet as an unexplained fire. That apothecary has been vacant for so long, I think most people believe it was started by a homeless wizard or witch. This time, it was different."

Remus adjusted his seat, raking his hands through his hair.

It was a habit she imagined he'd picked up from Potter or Sirius.

"It looked like you were dying. You were just screaming. I've never heard anyone make that sort of noise, outside of being tortured with the Cruciatus Curse. Snape hit the alarm – we've all got our Order coins, still, from the war – and when I got here, he was on top of you. It looked like you were having some kind of fit."

"And the fire?"

"A few lamps exploded. The fireplace caught, and it started going up the fireplace. Caught the mantle on fire, I think the fan spread it to the curtains."

"It's scary, then?"

Remus looked at her, "Yes. It looks like you're dying."

Charlotte briefly wondered if she were responsible for the purple circles under Severus's eyes, if he caught any sleep. She could sometimes hear him pacing the hallway, creaking the floorboards as he passed her room.

Had he been checking on her?

"It seems to go for the people who try to help you out of it. Snape was yelling for you, right in your ear. Sometimes it seemed like you could hear him – your head jerked that way when he got loud enough – but the obscurus looked like it had started to take on some of the embers from the curtains and was burning him. Your dress caught fire. Snape was on top of you, so it burned him too."

Charlotte felt her throat constricting again and her hands went instinctively to cover her mouth, pressing against her nostrils.

She could picture it, if only barely. Snape pressing his body against hers, trying to keep her still and smothering the flames on her dress. Shouting in her ear.

_You are mine._

"Why don't I pop downstairs and see where they're at with fixing it all up? We'll leave and let you talk things over with Snape. If you're still adamant about leaving afterwards, send me an owl and I'll come to get you. I'll take you anywhere you'd like to go."

She nodded, the liquid gathering in her eyes had spilled over her lashes.

"Thanks, Remus," she choked out before he reached the door.

"Of course, Charlie. You let me know if you need anything, anytime."

Charlotte hovered by the door, standing gingerly on her toes as she listened to the sounds of the Order leaving. They chatted briefly near the stairwell, and she could hear Snape thanking them in a cold, clipped tone.

As the front door close, she quickly escaped Snape's bedroom and tiptoed down the hall to her own bedroom. She grabbed a handful of clothes from the dresser and darted across the hall into the bathroom.

There, she could see the obscurus' havoc.

Her face was streaked with soot, fractured with tear lines, her eyes were red and bloodshot. It was mottled with blue and purple bruising, spreading from the side of her head to her throat. Crusts of blood hovered at the edges of her nose. A deep burn started at her shoulder and went down to the front of her hip, showing blistered and roasted skin. It had crept down her thighs around her knees, where the skin had cracked open and bled freely.

A wheeze - perhaps a semblance of a gasp - split her lips, and her eyes refilled.

Her hair was singed and matted, and as she reached up to touch the dark brown locks, they crumbled between her fingers. She dropped her fingers to grip the sink bowl, her knees knocking painfully together.

The sobs left her mouth despite her best efforts to smother them.

It was becoming all too exhausting, despite the speech Remus had given her.

At some point, Charlotte caught herself thinking, there would be nothing left to fight it with.

Her mind struggled to unearth any reason why she ought to.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

Severus appeared in the cracked doorway.

His dark eyes caught her hazel ones, and he moved forward without a word.

Arms maneuvered her to the toilet seat, where she dropped from uneven legs.

"I'm sorry," the words erupted from her scratched throat in a wail, "I'm so sorry."

Snape did not speak but grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet and began soaking it beneath the faucet. When he turned, he continued his silence as he began to carefully wipe her face. His fingers coaxed her brimming eyes closed.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered as he pushed the shirt from her shoulders.

He spoke, but it was in soft lilting spells, his wand erasing the battlefield on her body. His eyes delicately followed the curve of her shoulder, descending down. She did her best to remain still, but despite pressing her fingers to her mouth, her sobs continued, wracking her body with their effort.

It took him perhaps an hour, and by the time he had finished with the split blistered on her knees, her breathing had evened into soft hiccupping gasps.

"Take a shower, Charlotte," Severus said softly.

Before she could her open her mouth to protest, he had left the bathroom.

She tried to be quick in the shower, but the hot water kept her. It soaked her skin and warmed her bones, washing away the tension that had circled her throat like a noose.

She hovered under the spray of water, watching the grayed water swirl between her feet.

By the time she padded from the bathroom in her nightclothes, she crossed the hallway with sore eyes and turned the doorknob of her bedroom.

It was unyielding.

Charlotte frowned, pulling at it again.

It did not budge.

Panic began underneath her tongue.

"Charlotte."

Her eyes darted down the hallway to where Snape stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"I have moved your things."

Her breath caught.

The panic began to bloom.

She wondered in the owlery would be open to send Remus a letter, or if the Leaky Cauldron had a spare bedroom available for the night. Perhaps she could stay with Louisa.

It would make sense, that Severus would no longer welcome her in his home after the venomous words she had spewed at him.

"Come to bed, Charlotte."

Whirling panicked thoughts suddenly froze.

"In there, with you?"

Her voice broke, fracturing the sentence as it slipped from her lips.

"Come to bed," He repeated.

She carefully crossed the creaking floorboards of the hallway, passing him through the doorway to his bedroom. Severus pointed to the wide bed, and she slowly moved to slip between the fresh sheets.

Her eyes noted the trunk against a closet door, the dresser she had purchased for her bedroom now sat awkwardly next to his. Her mouth opened and closed, her eyes darting around to catch her books on the bookshelf, blended with his own. The dancing photograph of Louisa, Evan, and Charlotte sat casually on the nightstand.

Severus did not mention the sudden rearrangement of furniture but crossed the room and climbed into bed beside her.

Her body felt stiff as she arranged herself between the sheets, feeling warmth spread between the threads where Severus's body lay beside hers. Just as she let her head hit the pillow – hers, from the smell of thick lavender – she felt Severus move.

His body curved against hers, his arm – without any semblance of hesitation – draped itself across her waist.

Charlotte wanted to ask what he was doing. Questions buzzed between her ears, but her mouth felt cemented shut. She shifted, and felt his arm tighten around hers.

A strange feeling bubbled beneath her navel, where his arm pressed against her.

It was a foreign feeling, and Charlotte attempted to place it.

It was warm, and fizzing, like the bath bombs Louisa's mother would bring them from France.

It was soothing, like a steaming cup of chamomile.

It made her gut twist and clench in a way that was not altogether unpleasant.

A smile pulled at her lips, as she shifted again.

His arm tightened once more.

It took several moments for her to place it as she felt the pulse of his wrist against her waist.

It wasn't love, she realized, not yet.

Love came after this.

This was a beginning.

* * *

I love you all, your reviews made my day every day. I'm terribly sorry for the long wait. I plan to have Chapter 14 finished by Wednesday, and edited by Friday.

As always, let me know what you think in the review section, drop your house to bring your house to glory and WIN THE HOUSE CUP (which I will catch up on soonest).


	14. Chapter 14

Can I please start this chapter by saying thank you to all of you wonderful reviewers. I have never had the response I've been getting since writing TMPW and I appreciate every single review you write.

Special Shout Out to some of those who have been reviewing since the beginning, YellowAsphodel, Frankenpumpkin, and Vani12! Thank you again, and please enjoy Chapter 14.

* * *

_She sat cross-legged on a thin, hand-knotted rug flush in emerald greens and deep grays._

_Her hands outstretched to wind her fingers through the fibers._

"_Unus ex amino," her breaths began to even, "__Os ex ossibus meis__."_

_Charlotte's head rolled backwards; her eyelids felt heavy once more._

"_Spiro tibi respirare__. __Tibi respirare et spiritus meus__."_

_When her eyes reopened, she stood in a narrow hallway._

_Her breath hitched, taking in the thick vapors of cinnamon and butter._

_Her stomach growled._

"_Oh, do shut up, Peter," chortled a wizard in the corner, "Lily knows the way to your heart, doesn't she?"_

_The wizard had shaggy black hair, unkept in a purposeful manner, his round glasses accentuated a pair of hazel eyes. _

_Charlotte chuckled, throwing her breath into the noise, "Sorry, Prongs."_

_In Godric's Hollow, the Potter's house was a mashup of homey, almost Muggle, accents – thickly knitted blankets were carefully folded across the back of a plaid soda – and magic. A few Quidditch brooms hung near the front door, and moving photographs littered the walls in a way that flowed and showed a story. _

_Charlotte did not bother to look at them. _

_Her heavy footsteps turned Peter Pettigrew around._

_She was suddenly grateful for the calming draught she had taken before this possession._

_Sirius sat on a high-back armchair, his ankle propped on his knee, his arms folded behind his head. A tall glass of beer sat on the table next to him, and at his foot, a baby played. _

_Subtly, she did her best to avoid eye contact with the elder Black brother._

_Charlotte carefully measured Pettigrew's whistling breaths. _

_She had been training to slip into Pettigrew's mind for the better part of a month; following him on his trips to the Leaky Cauldron for a brew, perusing the aisles at a careful distance at his grocer's. She knew every unconscious gesture the rat made, and out of caution, she raised Peter's arm to scratch below his chin. _

"_When isn't Peter hungry?"_

_Remus was in the kitchen with Lily Potter. She could hear his soft voice discussing the health benefits of cinnamon with the redhead. _

_Instead of following her host's urge to check on the baking cookies, Charlotte turned his feet to scan around the house._

"_Are these new, Prongs?"_

_Charlotte gestured at the brooms at the door, carefully counting the wards place on the door._

"_Just the Nimbus."_

_Peter-Charlotte nodded her head, as she traced the baseboards for additional wards._

_The Order of the Phoenix had been creative in mapping each charm placed on the Potter house. It was lacking the typical muggle wards, perhaps to avoid suspicion, but had elaborate charms. Most were Dumbledore's – she could see the silvery print his charms left – but many were that of the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic._

_Mad-Eye._

_Her chest grew hot._

"_Wormtail, are you alright? You seem a bit jumpier – more than usual." Sirius was grinning at her._

"_Hungry," Charlotte-Peter scratched at his sweaty chin again._

"_I'll pop in and see what Lily has for snacks," Potter offered, standing, "Anything in particular?"_

"_Ah, some crisps would be nice. Thanks."_

_Charlotte noted that Sirius was now staring at her oddly._

_Mentally, she checked her posture._

_She had slumped forward a bit, as she had noted Pettigrew did often – he had terrible posture – and frequently drummed his fingers on his wide thighs, another habit of the rat's. _

_She felt a pressure between her eyes, and alarm spiked in her belly._

"_What are you doing, Padfoot?" _

_Her effort to make Pettigrew's laugh bemused was unsuccessful. He sounded nervous, and dread weighed on her shoulder as she continued to avoid the pale grey eyes following her around the room._

_She forced Peter to sit at the sofa and smile softly at the baby playing at Sirius's feet._

"_He's gotten big."_

"_What are you doing in Wormtail, Charlie?"_

_Sirius spoke barely above a whisper, his eyes narrowing._

_Peter-Charlotte swallowed._

"_If you let them hurt this family, Charlie, I will never forgive you. Let Peter come back to his body."_

"_Really, Padfoot? It's Peter."_

_Charlotte knew her attempt was feeble._

"_Peter went with James to buy that Nimbus." _

_She felt the color drain from Peter-Charlotte's face._

"_They're coming," her words came out in a rush._

_Sirius stood, his long strides brought him to the couch in mere seconds, his back to Harry._

"_Where?"_

"_Your house. I told them you were home," she swallowed._

"_I've been here all week."_

_Peter-Charlotte nodded._

"_Then they know the Potters have gone into hiding."_

_Peter-Charlotte nodded once more._

"_Is there anything you want me to save for you? They'll burn the lot."_

_For a moment, his eyes appeared to soften._

"_Our picture boxes. They're under a loose floorboard in front of the television." _

_Peter-Charlotte nodded and stood._

"_They need muggle wards," she whispered, "It looks suspicious without them." _

"_Harry's babysitter is a muggle – they can't have them."_

"_Find a new babysitter. They look like muggle sympathizers." _

"_They'll kill you, for telling me this." _

_Peter-Charlotte laughed, the noise cracked, "I have my own protection now, Sirius." _

_Quickly, she reached across and crushed herself against his chest, "I miss you, Charlie."_

_She felt the pull, like splitting a shirt's buttons, and when her eyes opened she was staring at the ceiling of Malfoy Manor._

"_Dumbledore is there."_

_Lucius stared at her for a moment and nodded._

_The lie was sweet on her tongue and she savored it for several moments until the others began flooding the front doors._

When Charlotte awoke, Severus still slept beside her.

Carefully, she slipped from the bed and padded across the bedroom.

It felt like a betrayal, to dream of Sirius sleeping alongside Snape.

The living room had been cleared of debris. All but the sofa and wallpaper had been salvaged, and Charlotte made a mental note to order a replacement her next trip to Diagon Alley. She moved through the kitchen, taking out a package of eggs and a wrapper of bacon.

Her mind fleeted as she beat the eggs and separated the rashers of bacon for frying.

_Unus ex amino_

_Os ex ossibus meis_

_Spiro tibi respirare__. __Tibi respirare et spiritus meus__._

A shiver went down her back.

After a possession, she had always felt ill.

She had vomited in one of Narcissa's potted plants and run after the horde of black cloaks descending from Malfoy Manor. Her stomach had churned as they walked through the gates, her breath feeling hitched as she affixed her mask.

Alphard Black had been kind to Sirius in his death. The gold had paid for Sirius' flat in London, and the small house he had bought a short distance from Godric's Hollow. Charlotte knew he now rented his flat to Lupin and had moved into the house to be closer to James and Lily.

Vomit had pressed against her teeth as they apparated, and it sprayed across the bushes planted on each side of the walkway. Eyes averted as she discarded her mask and emptied the remnants of her supper, pressing her fingers against her abdomen.

Even then, she hadn't known.

Evan had righted her and cleaned off her mask. He cracked a joke about the firewhiskey they had drunk at supper and elbowed her gently as they walked towards Sirius's home.

It had been difficult, but Charlotte had gotten the boxes. She had ripped the floorboards and stowed them quickly in her cloak, hiding the gesture under the pretense she was searching for relevant documents or some hint of how the Potter's home was hidden.

Charlotte flipped the bacon and set the kettle on, her fingers drumming against the counter top.

She had sent them to Sirius through owl and wondered know where they were. Likely destroyed by the aurors who had searched his home after his arrest, she thought absently, checking the pieces of toast crisping under the broiler.

Two boxes, brimming with photographs. It had felt wrong to open them, but she had. Her fingers had sifted through moving photographs of her, Sirius, and Regulus. The Potters. The Marauders at school. But the second box had startled her. Every photograph was of Charlie and Sirius, sitting together, laughing over butter beers in the Three Broomsticks, pressing backs together as they studied along the banks of the Hogwarts Lake. A small box sat at the bottom, made of worn, crushed velvet and held together with a bronze clasp.

Shaking her head, Charlotte pinched the toast from burning, quickly tossing it onto a plate as she heard the kettle whistle.

By the time Severus, roused by the kettle, made it downstairs she had fixed him a plate of breakfast and had started clearing away the mess of making it.

"Good morning," he mumbled.

She liked his tired voice. It grew husky and low, and made her belly warm. It was a stark contrast to his otherwise clipped, cold voice.

She would miss it.

Shifting on her feet, she watched him turn through pages of the Daily Prophet before settling on an article about some new potions development. The circles beneath his eyes had lightened a few shades or were perhaps offset by the fresh stubble growing across his chin.

Charlotte suddenly wondered what he'd look like with a beard.

"Remus spoke to me last night."

His words cut through the chirping sparrows outside and the rustling of his newspaper.

Her thoughts of Severus with a trimmed beard suddenly froze.

"I am not capable of it. A family."

She swallowed.

"It would be disrespectful to you, for me to tell you my feelings in plain words," Severus folded his newspaper and leaned back in his chair, "They are complex, such as our relationship. It would be wrong of me to promise things that I do not feel I can give to you."

"Like a family."

"Yes."

Charlotte took the chair across him, feeling suddenly tired.

She didn't want to look at him.

She crossed and uncrossed her ankles, staring at the patterns of the woodgrain, "Never?"

"I do not plan for the future so far in advance, Charlotte."

"Right now, then, it's never?"

Severus sighed, "Why do you do this?"

"I'm just asking."

"You and I know that the future can be disrupted at any moment."

"I know."

"Do you understand, why I feel I can promise you nothing?"

"Because you love Lily," she said, and was surprised by the coldness in her voice.

She felt suddenly angry, her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

"That is one of them."

"And because you don't love me."

"I do not feel as though I need to tell you my feelings for you. They should be clear by my actions."

Charlotte's eyes narrowed at the table, "You'd be mistaken, then."

"Remus told me that you want a family, and that you're concerned about your… previous attempts. How they may affect your ability to have a family, should the time come."

"He had no right to tell you," she whispered fiercely, "None at all."

"Surprisingly, the wolf has more loyalty to you than I would expect. He did not speak a word of it. But he is poorly trained in Legilimency."

Charlotte felt her face grow hot, "So you violated Lupin's mind to get it out of him?"

"I am not trying to make you upset."

"You're being unsuccessful," she snapped.

"I think you should go speak to Louisa."

"Louisa already knows," Charlotte's eyes lifted to narrow into slits at him, "She's the one who did it."

Severus raised a brow, "As an untrained healer."

"What is she going to do about it? You don't want a family. You're my husband. We're married. No one is going to touch me, if I'm your wife, even if we were to divorce. If the Dark Lord is coming back, no one is going to fucking touch me as your wife, ex-wife, or anything."

"I am not suggesting a divorce, Charlotte, though you've brought it up two days consecutively."

Charlotte clenched her teeth together, "Why would I see her about having a baby if you don't want a fucking baby?"

"If you would allow me to speak without becoming so emotional, I will discuss it with you further."

She seethed as he raised his newspaper back up and watched him lift his tea to his mouth from beneath an article about the Holyhead Harpies.

"I'm sorry."

The words tasted sour in her mouth.

Severus peered at her from above his newspaper and raised a brow.

"You can continue, I'm sorry," Charlotte mumbled.

He refolded his newspaper, "I would like you to go see Louisa to see if there will be complications."

"Complications?"

"Should we choose to have a family, later."

"But you just said-!" She began heatedly and snapped her mouth when his eyes narrowed.

"I said that I was not capable of having a family. At this time, I am not, and neither are you," Severus stood to take his plate to the sink, "You are an obscurial, Charlotte, and that is dangerous to an unborn child. We have an unconsummated marriage in which you threaten to divorce me, and our relationship has never transitioned beyond its original state."

"What are you saying?" Her stomach clenched with something that flipped and bubbled.

"Should our relationship develop beyond its current state, and should you cure yourself from your condition, I may be able to provide you with a family in the future."

"In the future."

"Yes, Charlotte."

She absently chewed a fingernail as he washed his breakfast dishes, "How far in the future?"

He turned to scowl at her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"My feelings in this relationship," his voice had begun to sound strained, "are complicated. As are yours."

"What are you suggesting, then, to change that?"

Severus rinsed the final remnants of egg from his plate, "We will get to know one another."

"You're leaving in four days, Severus, how are we going to get to know one another when you spend nine months of the year in Scotland?"

"We could arrange visits."

Her flash of anger subsided, and she leaned forward onto her elbows, pressing her chin into her palm, "Visits?"

"Lupin has offered to accompany you to Hogsmeade."

"I would visit you at Hogwarts, and we would do what, exactly?"

An exasperated noise left her husband's throat, "We could have dinner together, you could assist me with my school plans if Dumbledore feels it is appropriate for you to accompany me at Hogwarts."

"We would go on dates."

"Yes, Charlotte, if you must label dinner."

"I'm just telling you that's what it looks like."

"Then yes, it would be dates. Are you opposed to the idea?"

Charlotte shook her head, and then laughed.

Her laughter bubbled into snorts as she clasped her hand over her mouth, aware that Snape's eyes were narrowing with every chortle that escaped her lips.

"What is so funny?"

"You are asking me to date you, and we've already married," she snickered.

"Do attempt to uphold some decorum, Charlotte."

Severus left the kitchen abruptly, descending into his basement to begin packing for school.

Charlotte hummed as she walked around the kitchen, picking up the remnants of their breakfast and setting the kettle on for another round of tea. She sent off an owl to Louisa, wanting to avoid the crowds at St. Mungo's, to ask if she could see her at Louisa's flat for an appointment.

Her fingers were unsteady as she handed the envelope to Snape's owl.

_I've missed you, Charlie._

For a moment, her eyes burned.

The box nestled in between aged photographs; she had spent hours deliberating whether to open. Her fingers had wrapped around the clasp and withdrawn as though burnt. Eventually, she had gathered the courage to open it.

Nestled in a pillow of velvet sat a thin silver band, affixed with a modest diamond.

She wondered what Sirius had done with it.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the kettle whistle, and she hurriedly took it from the stove.

It felt like a betrayal, to dream and think of Sirius in Severus's home.

Their home.

Perhaps Remus had been right, she thought, as she fixed a pot of tea, wafting thick fumes of cinnamon into her nose.

Perhaps she had built an image of Sirius that had simply never existed.

_Could you just fucking try, Charlie? _

Her eyelids pressed together, recalling his words the night at Godric's Hollow.

_Could you just put in an effort to be less like Narcissa, and more like Lily? _

Charlotte realized as she grabbed a fresh cup from the cabinet that she hated Lily Evans.

* * *

I wonder how it will turn out if Snape realizes that Charlotte hates Lily...?

Let me know what you think in the review section!

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HOUSE CUP

Gryffindor - 0

Hufflepuff - 50

Ravenclaw - 15

Slytherin - 80


	15. Chapter 15

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy chapter 16! You should start to see more regular updates from me. I am shooting for a chapter every weekend right now, and I'm about two chapters ahead of this as of 10/26!

* * *

Louisa's flat in London was just a short walk from the hospital.

It was furnished in shades of creams and rich, dark greens. Charlotte felt awkward sitting on the sofa in her sundress, conscious that there was a grass stain on her sandal, which sat carefully on the shag rug beneath her feet.

"So, Snape wants a baby," Louisa chortled as she returned from the kitchen with two glasses of wine.

"No," Charlotte said, aware of the strain in her voice, "I want a baby."

"But not right now."

Charlotte took a sip of the Riesling and perused the plate of cheeses Louisa's house elf had procured for them when she arrived.

It felt odd, she decided, sitting in such a formal atmosphere. It was nearly uncomfortable.

The Rosiers had left everything to their only surviving child, before retiring to France. Louisa's parents had done everything to ensure their daughter carried the status that was due to her name, and from the furnishings to the gold-rimmed marble cheese plate, it showed.

She distracted herself with a slice of cheddar, crunching the crystals between her front teeth as Louisa watched her over the wide brim of her glass.

"It'll be difficult to tell if it can be fixed."

Charlotte shrugged, running her tongue around her molars, "I know."

"I wanted to take you to a healer."

Louisa's voice had been higher than her typical musical tone, raising each time any mention was made of Charlotte's war injuries. It didn't seem to matter that Charlotte had reassured her continuously over the years that she had never blamed Louisa. It had been a different time.

She echoed the words again.

"I know you feel that way, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you."

"You saved me," Charlotte reminded her as she plucked a grape from the marble, "You saved my life."

Louisa shifted and placed her glass on the mahogany table.

Charlotte had waited until Severus had departed for Hogwarts before seeing her schoolmate. The last few days leading to his return to Hogwarts had been comfortable ones. She was sleeping better, and some of her appetite had returned. Snape had given her a break from the pensieve, and instead had asked her to help him prepare his ingredient stores for travel.

She hadn't minded the break. It had given her time, she decided, to gather some energy to throw into her lessons with Remus. Even if Severus gave them little thought, Charlotte doubted that Dumbledore would have asked Lupin to help her if he hadn't thought something would come of it.

"Are you even having sex?"

Charlotte snorted into her wine glass.

"Lou!"

"I've never known you to be a prude."

"I am _not_ a prude," Charlotte began defensively, "I just don't see why you're asking."

"You don't see why I'm asking if you're sexually active when we're going to be testing your fertility?"

Charlotte paused, "We aren't."

"I'm surprised you haven't jumped his bones yet. When was the last time you even had a good snog?"

Louisa was grinning, showing her teeth in a wolfish smile.

"Rabastan, probably. Or Scabior."

"I forgot you fucked Scabior."

"I wish I could," Charlotte muttered, the edges of a smile pulling at her lips.

There were few days Charlotte felt like she could peel off the skin she had developed since marrying Severus. He preferred a calmer version of herself, and while their conversations had grown over the summer, Charlotte doubted he ever wanted to discuss her sex life prior to their marriage.

With Louisa, she felt limp with relaxation. Her limbs had softened, her joints loosened. If it were the wine or the company, Charlotte could not decide. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.

"He was at least handsome, back then," Louisa mused, crunching on a cracker, "But Rabastan. How did you ever win over that sociopath?"

Charlotte couldn't recall the precise moment.

Rabastan had been popular with the witches through their time at school. He was handsome, from a wealthy pureblooded family. At Hogwarts, neither he nor his brother had struggled in the way of company. Charlotte doubted he even so much as spoke two sentences to her in school. Rabastan had been in the year ahead of her – the same as Severus – and hadn't bothered with her.

After she had taken the Mark, things had changed.

Suddenly, she was no longer Sirius's – or Regulus's – she was free game.

Charlotte would have been lying if she said she had not sought their company. She had been lonely after Regulus, and the abundance of single Death Eater wizards had been high. Scabior had been a mistake – a drunken evening at the White Wyvern – but Rabastan had been a constant. He had invited her to move into his flat, and she had. There had been a comfortable, unspoken agreement between the pair of them. Rabastan wasn't the marrying kind, and Charlotte had no desire to become someone else's wife, responsible for their circumstances. They had been relatively happy with one another, though their tempers had bested them many evenings, unless Severus had been around.

Rabastan had never liked Severus.

"But you and Snape are talking, anyway, about having a baby?"

Charlotte frowned, "Kind of. We've started to. He knows I want one, eventually."

Louisa bobbed her head in agreement, "Did you ever try again?"

Charlotte shook her head, "No, Rab didn't want to risk it again."

"What about Black?"

The air changed as his name left her schoolmate's mouth. It felt cooler, threatening a change to the conversation that would follow.

She hesitated.

"I never told him."

Her voice sounded higher, and she wondered if Lou would notice.

Louisa pursed her lips together, and Charlotte worried what words would pass through them. It was a sensitive subject, Sirius and Charlotte, with Louisa. Though Louisa had covered for Charlotte – several times – she had never approved of it.

It had been too risky.

The consequences for it had been too high.

"We'll have to run a few tests. Two I have in mind will take a few days for the results to develop. When they come back in, we'll move forward with those results in mind."

Louisa had brought home flasks and vials filled with potions and odd bits of ingredients. A particularly large jar held a thick syrupy substance that shone like pearls. Charlotte frowned at the box as Louisa picked it up and ushered her up the stairs of the flat.

They turned down the hallway, and Lou ordered her to strip from her sundress and arrange herself on the guest bed.

As she worked at the dresser, Louisa hummed softly, stirring together a few ingredients and cracking open the jar. A sour smell filled the air, and Charlotte noted that sweat had begun to bead above her lip. She wiped at it quickly.

"Nervous?"

Lou's eyes peered at her, and Charlotte chewed her lip and nodded.

It was difficult to hide anything from Louisa.

"Charlie," Louisa sat on the edge of her silk comforter, "Nothing we're doing today is going to hurt. It might feel a little gross, and I'm going to look at your lady bits. It can't be avoided, so I hope you've trimmed."

Charlotte laughed, "I had the thought."

"We're just going to see what we're looking at. We may even find out today that if you decided to take advantage of Snape tomorrow you could be knocked up by your next cycle. Okay?"

Charlotte nodded.

"Why haven't you, by the way?"

"Taken advantage of Snape?"

Louisa had perched herself on a stool at the end of the bed and was busying herself between Charlotte's legs with a few vials.

Charlotte tried not to think of it. She had always hated witch's health exams.

"We've never been like that."

"I seem to recall differently," Louisa said quietly.

Perhaps at a time, they had been.

Things had happened very quickly after that night in Godric's Hollow.

With the Dark Lord gone, the Ministry had gone hunting for his Death Eaters.

Within a week, Rabastan had been caught with his brother and sister-in-law. It seemed as though every day the Daily Prophet was publishing stories of Death Eaters being caught, and subsequently providing the Ministry with a renewed list of names.

The night Charlotte had seen her name in the Daily Prophet, she had gone to Snape.

He had been intoxicated, she recalled, when she appeared in his living room.

Charlotte had downed a few shots of liquid courage before leaving her room below the White Wyvern, which had been converted in the last months to a safe house for Death Eaters.

His fingers had been wrapped around a bottle of firewhiskey, and he had been throwing empties at the fireplace. Her feet had carefully tip-toed around glass shards as she approached him. When his eyes opened, he watched her stand in front of him for several moments before speaking.

The recollections of that evening were hazy.

She had stayed on his sofa for two nights before feeling the urge to move again, and by the time she had taken a room under a fake name and charmed to the gills at the Leaky Cauldron, Dumbledore had approached her with the proposition.

"He always had a soft spot for you," Louisa continued, "During the war. Hated Rab."

"There was one night," Charlotte found herself thinking aloud, "But it isn't possible."

Louisa popped up, peeling off a set of gloves, "What do you mean, there was one night?"

"After the Dark Lord fell. I went over there, when Igor named me to the Ministry."

Louisa's brows raised, "You went to Snape's?"

"Lou, I was drunk, and I really doubt anything happened."

"But it could have."

"No, it couldn't."

Smirking, Louisa went to the jar of syrupy liquid, "How are you so sure?"

"He would've said something."

"Maybe he doesn't remember, either."

Charlotte shifted on the bed as her friend spread the goo across her abdomen. She was creating a thick sheet of it, and it felt warm and cold simultaneously. Louisa drew her wand and began chanting softly under her breath.

"I can't picture Snape blacking out, even if he was drunk."

Louisa did not reply, she was peering at the goo on Charlotte's belly, and carefully scratching notes away with a quill, still chanting softly.

"He would have said something."

She couldn't tell if she said it aloud for Louisa's benefit, or her own.

Louisa's notes continued for several moments before she began siphoning away the goo with her wand. Charlotte tried to read her expressions, but Louisa's cocked brows and smiling smirk contradicted one another.

After Lou had closed the jar and wiped away the other vials into a bag, she turned back to Charlotte and propped her hands on her hips.

"I can see scarring. A lot of it."

"What does that mean?"

"I'll need to remove some of it. It'll be uncomfortable. Give you cramps."

Shifting, Charlotte sat up, "But then I could get pregnant, if I wanted to. It wouldn't be dangerous?"

"It's difficult to say. I mean, it could be that simple. I have to remove the scarring before I can see anything else. It's all scar tissue. I'm surprised you haven't seen a healer. Your cramps must be unbearable."

Charlotte frowned, "Not any more than usual."

Louisa pursed her lips together, "That's odd."

"A bad odd?"

Exasperation filled her when Louisa shrugged her shoulders. She bit her lip and took the sundress that Louisa had passed back to her.

"I really don't know, Charlie. I'm going to talk to the head of our witch's health department. I'll be vague, but I won't see her until the end of the week. She's been busy with winter deliveries."

By the time Charlotte left Louisa's flat, it had grown dark. She appeared in the fireplace at Spinner's End and longed to curl up on the sofa with her favorite wireless show but stared at the bare spot on the floor where their sofa had been.

The house felt oddly empty, as it had never before. During all of her previous years at the house while Severus was at Hogwarts, she had been able to fill the emptiness with books or a few projects around the house. But Charlotte could no longer muster up much magic at all and doubted she would be able to do anything around the house without a trip or two to Diagon Alley, and that in itself posed a challenge as she could no longer apparate without assistance.

She reached for a handful of catalogs Severus had brought home from his last trip to London and dumped them onto the floor. Her few glasses of wine in full effect, she found herself dropping cross-legged onto the threadbare rug and spreading out the fabric swatches she had written for and held them up in the light.

Withdrawing her wand from her pocket, she waved it quickly at the kitchen without a second thought and felt her arm freeze.

Horrified, she quickly turned to see what had exploded.

Instead, she watched a bottle of wine free itself from the cabinet and come slowly spinning through the air to land at her side, alongside her wide-brimmed goblet.

As it dropped to the floor with a loud _THUMP_, Charlotte stared at the bottle of chardonnay with absent-minded horror and wonder.

She hadn't wanted it to come back, she thought, as she hurried to her feet.

But her feet carried her to the kitchen, where she dug through a drawer for the corkscrew.

Charlotte peered at the bottle, sitting upright on the floor, and found a soft laugh escaping her mouth as she unscrewed the cork.

_I believe that obscurials can recover from their affliction, though I am sure many would disagree with me. _

She was certainly one of them.

_An obscurial can possibly be healed by replacing their feelings of alienation, which ultimately lead to the creation of their obscurus, with a sense of belonging._

Perhaps it was the co-sleeping, she thought as she collapsed back to the floor where the bottle sat. She absently thought of the calm that she awoke with during the last few nights before Severus had returned to Hogwarts. It had lulled over her like a cup of hot milk, her bones felt lighter, somehow, waking alongside Severus. Perhaps it was just the physical contact.

She drummed her fingers on the goblet's neck and peered at the corkscrew.

With bated breath, she placed it on the floor.

"_Wingardium leviosa."_

* * *

There we have it! Let me know what you think in the review section.

I am going to update this Monday with the House Cup numbers as I am a bit sleepy, but as always - bring your House to Glory.

Drop your Hogwarts House in the review section for 5 Points!


	16. Chapter 16

Charlotte shifted against the booth's cracked leather and felt exasperation build in her chest.

Six hours ago, she had sat in Faustus' salon chair in Diagon Alley and asked him to make her ravishing.

The lilac-haired wizard had obliged, adding feathery highlights to her dark hair. He had blended away the side-swept bangs that she found were more irritating than stylish and had finished her off with a loose curl that accentuated the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

She had not suspected Severus to notice, she reminded herself, as Regulus had certainly never bothered to notice when she had her hair done. But Remus, picking her up after she had fussed over her wardrobe choices for the better part of an hour, had complimented her heavily on the lighter tone. He had looked ragged, the circles under his eyes darker than she had ever seen them, but he had noticed.

Severus had barely said five words to her.

Shifting again, Charlotte reached for the dusty pitcher of beer and poured herself another goblet.

Drinking, she recalled, made everything a little better.

The Hog's Head Inn was no Three Broomsticks. A few wizards in various states of inebriation hovered on their bar stools shouting at one another over the most recent Quidditch games, and the bartender halfheartedly dusted out a few tarnished goblets. She had longingly looked across the village at the Three Broomsticks before they had entered the quieter pub.

Charlotte knew why he had made the choice to have their drinks together here, rather than in Madam Rosmerta's pub. His students did not typically visit the Hog's Head, and they could have a pitcher of beer together without the prying eyes of two-dozen students.

"How are your students this year?"

"Abysmal."

A sigh left her mouth and she looked at her brooding husband, "They can't be that bad."

"And yet they are."

"You don't have any promising ones this year?"

Severus scowled, "Perhaps one."

"A Slytherin, I hope."

"Ravenclaw."

Charlotte sipped her lukewarm beer and kicked her feet absently underneath the booth. The pair of arguing wizards had grown heated, throwing insults at one another across the bar.

"I apologize for the lack of atmosphere."

Her brows raised; her eyes drifted back to Severus who picked at a pill on his sleeve. His face had softened fractionally, his mouth relaxing from its affixed scowl.

"I hope you understand why I choose to keep my personal life private from my students."

"I do," Charlotte mused, "Perhaps next time we could have supper in your office."

Severus glanced at her, "I would need to speak to Albus."

"I'd like to see where you spend the year away from me."

_Away from me_.

There was a tone of possessiveness in her voice, and Charlotte watched a smirk pull at the corner of Snape's lips. Her cheeks colored briefly, and she hid them behind her hair as she took a large swallow of her beer.

"Louisa's written to me about your procedure. You're postponing it?"

After several days, Charlotte's results had arrived from St. Mungo's. From what Louisa's superiors had researched, it appeared that no further tests could be run until the scar tissue had been successfully removed. Charlotte would have to stay overnight in St. Mungo's for the procedure and would need assistance for several days afterward. They had listed a full parchment length of side-effects of the procedure, but Charlotte had ignored the most gruesome of them.

Nausea and cramping were things she would willingly and enthusiastically endure for the prospect of a baby. No matter how far in the future it would come.

Charlotte shrugged, "She says I'll need help for a few days afterward. I don't have anyone to ask, so I thought I would postpone until the holidays, when you've come home."

Severus frowned, "Louisa can't assist you?"

"She's been catching additional hours. There's a promotion available for a supervising healer that she's after. She offered, but I didn't want to be an imposition."

"I think delaying a necessary medical treatment is foolish."

Charlotte glanced down at the fizzing foam at her goblet's brim and took a long swallow.

"Why am I here, exactly?"

The bold words left her mouth before she could stop them.

Severus raised a singular dark brow.

"You told me to come visit you, in your letter, like we had discussed before you left. So that we can develop our relationship and turn our marriage into something that isn't just written out on parchment, but we've spent the last hour or so drinking beer and staring at those lot argue about the Kenmare Kestrels instead of making any conversation."

Charlotte took a large swallow of her beer and slipped from the booth, "Remus said he would stick around the village. I won't keep you any longer."

She dropped a galleon on the table and reached across the table for her jacket.

Severus's hand shot out to encircle her wrist, his eyes narrowed.

"Sit down, Charlotte."

"Why?"

Severus released her to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Please sit down."

"We're just wasting one another's time, Severus. I'm sure you have essays that need grading, and I have a sudden desire to watch the wallpaper peel from the walls, so let's call it an evening."

The dark-haired wizard's eyes narrowed, "You never tire of overthinking everything, do you?"

Charlotte's mouth opened, and she sucked in a breath as her cheeks colored but was interrupted as Severus stood from the booth.

"I'm tired, Charlotte. I've spent the last two months grading essays and reworking lesson plans for incompetent students, as well as managing Slytherin. Can you possibly understand how many arguments I am dragged from my chambers to settle, or how many times I have had to argue with the other professors over time slots on the Quidditch pitch?"

Charlotte watched as he adjusted his robes, "I'm _tired_. I wanted to enjoy my wife's company for just one evening as we do when I'm home. I don't desire long conversations. There is nothing that you do not know about me, there is very little I do not know about you. I've been inside of your mind, and you've been in mine. What is left to discuss?"

_I wanted to enjoy my wife's company._

_My wife._

"I will escort you back to the wolf."

The air held a chill that it had not when they entered the pub. Charlotte pulled her jacket tighter around her torso and walked pointedly behind Severus as he left the pub's creaking gate. Their feet crunched over the freshly dropped foliage littering the cobblestones. She watched his broad shoulders as they walked silently, and felt a hotness gather in her throat.

She had been a bit stupid, she realized.

All day she had played out the events of their evening together. They would have a few pints in the Three Broomsticks, and maybe after they could wander into Honeyduke's for a few chocolates and some toffee. She had imagined Severus giving her that reserved-for-her smirk when he saw her in the village square and giving her a compliment for her hair.

None of these things were logical.

Severus did not like to be openly affectionate. He had never been so, not even with Lily. He would never have taken her to the Three Broomsticks in front of his students to be teased and ridiculed for it later by immature students, and the idea of them peering through the counter glass to select chocolates now seemed utterly ridiculous to her.

Snape hated chocolate.

He could be affectionate in his letters, Charlotte recalled. He had written in concern when she had mentioned her headaches and had sent her a few vials of potions to help her manage them. He asked how her improvements around the house were, and had finished every letter with 'Yours, Severus'.

Perhaps it was easy enough to confuse the two versions of himself. On parchment, Severus was her husband who seemed to care about the books she bought at Flourish and Blott's, and who asked her to pick up a few items for her when she made trips to Diagon Alley. On parchment, Severus was easier.

He had never been that way in physical form.

"Severus."

The wizard continued with his long-strides, and Charlotte's feet – pinched in the attractive boots she had selected for their date – were aching terribly.

"Severus, please stop."

She bumped into his firm back and found herself pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades. He stiffened.

"I've been a bitch."

Charlotte heard him snort.

"I've missed you. I forget sometimes, that this is hard for you. That it's different."

Severus remained silent; his stiff back still warm against her face.

"But sometimes it feels like you're just going through the paces to make me shut up about having a baby. Like you've just said these things on paper and that they don't mean anything outside in the world. You've been my friend for so long, Severus. But I don't need you to be my friend anymore."

The broad-shouldered wizard turned, and his eyes were dark and narrowed.

"I just need you to be my husband. I need you to tell me that you've had a shitty day. I'm terrible at guessing these things," Charlotte tried to crack a smile, "I needed you to just _know_ that I'm scared that they're going to do all of this and it won't matter anyway."

"Louisa sounded confident in her letter."

"That isn't the point, Sev."

Severus stared at her, and Charlotte noted that it had grown cold enough now that she could see the air leaving his nose turn into steam. She took in a deep, cold breath to settle her nerves and smelled the lightest fumes of cologne.

A smile tugged at her mouth.

"You're wearing the cologne I bought you."

Severus grimaced, "Yes, I am."

"I'm sorry."

Severus shifted, and Charlotte knew better than to expect him to reciprocate any apology or regret for his behavior. Instead, they stood there for a moment staring at one another's foggy breath before she stepped forward so there was only a finger breadth between them.

"I've missed your company," He said finally, "More than I expected to."

A smile split her mouth and Charlotte leaned forward to rest her head on his chest.

He stiffened momentarily by the action, but slowly she felt him relaxing, his arms remained hanging at his sides.

"I'll write to Louisa to inform her when I will be returning for holiday."

Charlotte nodded against him, taking deep breaths of the spiced cologne she had picked for him while shopping with Louisa in London. The heat coming off his skin warmed her chilled nose.

"Would you like to take a walk? The students will have gone back to the castle."

She nodded again and stepped away from him and fell into step with his long strides.

"Have you finished the living room?"

The clipped tone of his voice was evaporating, and Charlotte smiled as they matched a slow pace to trail down to the Shrieking Shack.

"Almost, I've ordered a sofa. It was inexpensive," She hurriedly said as he affixed her with narrowed eyes, "I promise."

They fell into a silence that was not uncomfortable as they walked until the shack appeared into view, and Severus leaned against the fence to stare at the dilapidated building.

"I did a spell."

Charlotte bit the side of her mouth as her husband turned, his eyes widening fractionally.

She had not written him to tell him that she had – albeit briefly – managed a levitating charm on the corkscrew. It had lifted for only a few moments, and afterwards she had endured a headache that had lasted for hours.

It took only a few moments before she felt his mind pressing against her own, and she lifted the gate to let him in.

Legilimency was uncomfortable to most people. The feeling of another consciousness pressing into memories and thoughts often resulted in sharp headaches, nausea, and dizziness. Charlotte had become so accustomed to Severus digging about in her head that it simply felt like a soft pressure between her brows. She waited until he had dug further enough and then felt him pause.

"The headaches."

Charlotte hesitated and nodded.

"You've done it several times now, then. Have you tried anything else?"

"I tried a repair charm. The tea pot exploded."

Severus's mouth twitched, "Anything else?"

Charlotte shook her head.

"Have you told Remus?"

"No, I didn't want to get him excited over nothing."

Severus snorted, "This is far more than 'nothing', Charlotte."

"First year students do levitate charms. I can't even manage to light my wand without causing collateral damage."

"You were incapable of any magic just a few months ago."

Charlotte frowned and wondered how far in her mind he had gone.

She wondered if he had read the errant thoughts that had drifted to her as she laid in their bed alone at night. If he had seen the idea that had begun a sickening growth in the back of her mind.

Severus always saw everything.

They stood quietly for several moments, staring at the empty Shrieking Shack.

Charlotte wanted Severus to be more open with her. She wanted him to tell her when he was having a shit day, or when he wanted to complain about a student. She wanted him to act more like her husband. Anxiety made her palms damp, and Charlotte shifted on her feet, missing her balance on the spiked heel of her boot.

Her shoulder collided sharply into his rib cage, and as though it were the most natural action in the world, his arm wrapped around her waist and he turned towards her.

"Are you struggling with the theory of gravity today?"

Charlotte's cheeks colored, and Severus smirked. The expression spread warmth in her belly. He only smirked like that for her, she reminded herself. She liked the way it lit up his eyes and changed his face. He had aged so much in the war, she realized, thinking back to his face while they had been at Hogwarts.

They had been so young then.

They had seen so few things.

They hadn't been ready.

Severus's chest was pressed against her own, his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand felt like a sear on her ribcage.

Charlotte wanted him to be more open with her.

She supposed that meant she was obliged to be more open with him as well.

_I don't need you to be my friend anymore._

_I just need you to be my husband._

"The pensieve."

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her, their faces separated by the fog leaving their mouths in soft, hitched breaths.

"The pensieve?"

"I know what started it."

Severus's forehead was crinkled with tiny wrinkles that had not yet existed when they were in school. The lines mapped his face and showed every scowl and every moment of exasperation. She briefly wondered if he knew that in a certain light, his eyes looked like Tahitian pearls.

"I think it was that possession."

His confusion slipped from his face like a thick syrup, it slid from his face and showed the face underneath. His eyes had darkened. His mouth was tight, his jaw clenched.

"The first one."

It had been her darkest secret.

She could recall that evening, hovering in the restricted section of the library – Severus sprawling out thick tomes of texts and grinning up at her as he found the passage. They had left the common room, in search of textbooks to assist Severus with his spell-making. The Marauders had dropped his trousers in the Great Hall that morning, and Charlotte hadn't known what possessed her to follow him to the library. They hadn't been very good friends, not then. She supposed she hadn't wanted him to find something dangerous.

But they had.

The tome had been heavy in his hands as he passed it to her, and Charlotte had snickered as she looked over the passages. It had seemed ridiculous – possession. Charlotte had never known a witch or wizard that had managed to do it successfully in a person, and it had been a joke to her. She had read the passage with mirth in her mouth. Severus had goaded her as she mouthed the words, teasing her for being too frightened to say them aloud.

They had picked a name.

Charlotte had never expected it to work.

When she opened her eyes, she did not expect to find her fingers deep in a package of crystallized pineapple.

The terror that had filled her had snapped her out of it. The panic had risen in her throat and emptied her stomach on the library floor. Severus had stared at her, and Charlotte wondered if it had been fear in his eyes.

She had been afraid.

Slughorn had never mentioned it, and no one ever came to march her to Dumbledore's office. They hadn't spoken of it again, until after the duel that killed Evan Rosier. After Severus had told the Dark Lord that Charlotte had already completed a successful possession.

After everything changed.

Charlotte had always wondered when Severus told him.

It had all seemed too coincidental.

She didn't want to know anymore, she realized, as Severus's face hardened.

She didn't want to see this expression on his face, or the way that his body stiffened and removed itself from hers.

She didn't want to see this expression on his face anymore.

"The one I made you do."

* * *

There we are! I'm about one chapter ahead now, so regular updates will continue next weekend after I do some editing! As always, please hit the follow story/author buttons below to be notified of every update and drop a review to let me know what you thought of Chapter Sixteen! Also, let me know if you would like warning for future adult content chapters. Your reviews make my day and occasionally make me do cartwheels. Leave your House in the review section for 5 Points to bring your House to glory with the House Cup! Gryffindors are currently falling in dead last. Snape would be pleased.

House Cup

Slytherin - 90

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Ravenclaw - 15

Gryffindor - 5


	17. Chapter 17

"You didn't make me do it, Severus."

But even Charlotte had difficulty believing the words that came out of her mouth.

She had been a stupid sixteen-year-old student, following her upperclassman in hopes that he wouldn't uncover something in the restricted section that would potentially permanently disfigure her boyfriend.

Without his goading, she doubted the words would have left her mouth. Despite her best efforts, she had never managed to be particularly brave or daring in school. She had been content with being an affluent member of the Slug Club as one of Slughorn's prize students and attending Quidditch matches with her roommates. The most excitement she saw in her school years had been in Dueling Club. Sneaking out of the common room after dark into the restricted section of the library had been about as far up her bucket list as snogging a flobberworm.

_Do you ever get tired of pretending to be perfect?_

Maybe it had been Sirius's words to her that morning that had egged her on, or perhaps it had truly been the idea of him being tortured by Snape, but she had followed him out of the common room nevertheless with minimal encouragement.

"I must speak with Albus."

Severus was moving away from the shack, his face unreadable.

Charlotte wondered if there would ever be a time that she could understand every expression that flashed behind his eyes, as she could with Louisa, Regulus, or Sirius.

She doubted it.

"Why does Dumbledore have to know?"

Severus snorted, "If I'm to assist you in practicing illegal magic, Charlotte, it's best we seek some notion of instruction from Albus."

"What do you mean '_practice illegal magic'_?"

Her voice had shot several octaves as she quickened her pace to match his long strides. Her feet had begun to ache terribly now, despite the descending chill in the air.

"This makes sense. Your magic started becoming unreliable after that. You struggled with your NEWT's, didn't you?"

Charlotte gaped at him, "What?"

"What did you get in your NEWT exams, Charlotte?"

"What does it matter what I scored in my school exams?"

Severus stopped to look at her, apparently deciding that further explanation was unnecessary.

"E's, mostly."

"In what courses?"

"I got an A in Defense Against the Dark Arts, an O in Potions, E's in everything else. Why does any of this matter. Our exams were years ago."

Her husband frowned, his eyes on the graveled pathway at their feet.

"You were an excellent student. You were in the dueling club. Why did you get an A?"

"I don't know, Severus! I was shit at it, apparently, is that what you're getting at?"

His long strides resumed, and Charlotte's breaths left her mouth in steamed pants as she hurried to catch up to him.

"Your magic started acting up around then?"

Charlotte took in a large breath, her nose burning from the cold as he stopped once again. She shifted from each aching foot, hoping from a reprieve from her footwear, "I don't think so."

"Well, what magic were you performing?"

A frown pulled at her mouth.

In truth, Charlotte hadn't used much magic after Hogwarts.

Within six months, she had been married to Regulus. Every day leading up to that point had been spent planning the wedding. She hadn't bothered to look for a job after graduation because Regulus hadn't wanted her to work. He had been offered a posh job at the Ministry of Magic. She had been occupied after graduation with renovating the historical house that the Black family had provided after their marriage and being a wife.

Her mouth opened and closed, before a smile of relief spread across her face.

Severus appeared to be growing exasperated.

"I – no wait, Louisa did that. I can't remember, does it really matter?"

The scowl on her husband's face indicated that it did, indeed, matter.

"You mean to tell me that you performed no magic while married to Regulus," Severus's eyes were narrowing with every syllable, "None?"

"I'm certain I did, I just can't remember."

"But you were dueling, working for the Dark Lord."

Charlotte's mouth pulled into a frown, "Yes, until that last time."

"What curses were you using?"

She could feel her cheeks starting to warm, "I don't think that matters, really."

"I saw you perform Unforgiveables."

"Well, I'm certain that it appeared that way."

Severus blinked, "It appeared that way?"

"I used leg-locking charms, mostly. It slowed people down enough for Rosier or Yaxley to get them."

"You used _leg-locking charms_ on trained _aurors_."

When he said it like that, Charlotte thought nervously, it sounded quite stupid.

Charlotte hadn't wanted to duel, and she supposed that Evan had realized that rather quickly after she entered the Dark Lord's ranks. She had rather successfully convinced him – and later, Yaxley – that she was just terrible at them. Evan had been the one to suggest she use easier charms. She had selected a few that she thought would be useful and had managed to always pair herself up with one of her classmates who didn't seem to mind taking the credit for bagging an auror or two.

In reality, though Charlotte would be hard-pressed to admit it now, she hadn't wanted to gain any recognition as a duelist. She hadn't wanted to make any of the lists the Order had or be paired up with an experienced auror if she were ever recognized.

Sirius had been an experienced auror.

"It worked, didn't it?"

She doubted she had ever seen Severus Snape wear the look of incredulity that he was staring at her with.

"You haven't performed any advanced magic since Hogwarts."

Charlotte's mouth pursed, "Possession is advanced magic."

Severus seemed to be battling several emotions as his scowl deepened with every moment they spent staring at one another. His breath left his nose in long streams of steam, giving him the odd look of a dragon. Clenched at his sides, his fists noticeably shook.

"I need to speak with Albus."

His words were quiet thunder, his eyes obsidian pits.

"I'm not doing it again."

Severus's hand circled her elbow with ease, his large hand captured the joint as if she were nothing but a quill. His trek towards the castle restarted, and Charlotte's feet screamed with every heavy step through the gravel, "Albus will know what to do," he growled.

"I thought you were supposed to know," She said, her voice strained as her toes pinched together.

He remained silent, his feet crunching as they came into view of the village.

"Severus," she pulled at her arm, "Severus, stop it."

Charlotte recognized that he was no longer listening to her, and for a moment she stared at his frozen face.

Severus was supposed to have known what to do.

Remus was waiting outside Honeydukes, carrying a few small parcels. His eyebrows raised noticeably as he noted Severus's grip on Charlotte's elbow, and her stumbling steps behind him. As he stepped forward, Severus stopped.

"Take her directly home."

Charlotte rubbed the tender spot where his thumb had dug into her soft flesh and glanced between the two wizards.

She didn't want Severus to go back to the castle and tell Albus Dumbledore that Charlotte had become an obscurial because she had used illegal magic at Hogwarts. She didn't want him to sit alone at night, angry that he had been the one to goad her into doing it.

She didn't want to go home to an empty house after this evening.

Everything had gone so differently in her mind.

"None of it was your fault, Severus."

Snape's jaw clenched.

"You didn't make me do anything," Charlotte heard her voice crack, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Go home, Charlotte."

Remus was watching them, and Charlotte urged the burning in her eyes to stop. She wanted the building pebble in her throat to stop growing, the feeling in her chest to go away.

"I told you because I thought you'd know what to do. I don't want to do it again."

Severus's face was growing darker with each syllable that passed through her mouth, but the words kept spilling from her lips. She didn't want to stop talking, to watch him walk to the castle and ask Albus permission to do it all over again.

"Please don't make me do it again," she whispered, "_Please_."

"There is nothing left for us to discuss this evening. Lupin, take her home."

"I won't do it again," she began hastily as he stepped away, "You can't make me do it. I _won't_."

Severus snorted as he took another step away, and Charlotte's hands shot out to grab at his arm, her fingernails digging into the fabric of his robes desperately. His slim fingers dislodged her own with ease, and he moved away from her.

"Come on, Charlie, let's go home."

Lupin's voice was soft and soothing, his hand reached out for hers expectantly.

It only took a moment for Charlotte to glance at him before Severus began abruptly walking towards the castle.

For a moment, she wanted to chase after him.

She could picture the argument spilling from her mouth with clarity. She would tell him that she couldn't do that to another person again. Charlotte needed only to explain how it made her nauseous for days, how her head pounded as though someone were driving an ice pick into her skull. Something in her voice would stop him, and he would recognize the truth in it. Dumbledore would never give him permission to allow her to possess another person.

But as her legs burned to follow him and somewhere in her head, a voice was screaming at her to stop him, Charlotte remained still.

Severus wouldn't care.

Severus didn't care about the violation of it. He had never held any qualms with forcefully entering into another mind. He wouldn't care about the few days of discomfort it would bring her.

He would only see the outcome.

Charlotte wondered if he would do it for her benefit, or for his own.

"C'mon, Charlie. Let's get you home."

Severus was a small figure now, walking towards the castle gates with a quick, purposeful stride.

Wordlessly, she took Lupin's outstretched hand. He waited only a moment before she could feel the familiar tug at her navel, and they stood in a light drizzle outside the house on Spinner's End.

Charlotte stared at the dim light filtered through the feathery sheer curtains she had hung at the kitchen window. She looked at the window boxes planted with mums in shades of gold, rust, and yellow.

She wondered why – despite her best efforts – this house never felt like home.

"Thanks, Remus," her voice sounded distant.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Charlotte shook her head as she walked towards the house, stepping through the gate.

"Goodnight."

Warmth splashed over her as she passed through the front door. Her fingers numbly reached down to peel the boots from her feet. She ignored the bubbled blisters rubbing between her toes as she padded across the new rug to stand in front of the fireplace.

As though she had spent the last hour crying, Charlotte's throat ached, and her eyes felt as though someone had thrown sand in them. A box of matches sat on the new mantle, but Charlotte reached for her wand, digging her fingers deep into her jacket pocket.

Her fingers flexed as she pointed it.

"Incendio."

Nothing.

Frustration mounted in her chest.

"Incendio," Her hand dramatically twisted.

A small tendril of smoke arose from the log.

"_Incendio_."

Noises of anger crawled from her tender throat as her eyes narrowed.

Charlotte wanted to cry.

She hadn't minded, really, not being able to do magic.

Potions had been her favorite subject at Hogwarts – alongside Astronomy – and she could still practice both of those without a wand. While she could no longer brew complicated, advanced draughts, she could still manage the basics. Even Severus had been surprised at her remaining knowledge of the subject.

Truly, she hadn't missed any wand waving. Nothing good had ever happened with the swish of her wand. She had watched Evan and Yaxley kill aurors after she'd flicked leg-locking charms at them. Her wand had set fires to homes and businesses. It had been her wand that had twisted and bent minds into irreparable conditions. It seemed fitting, really, that most things now spontaneously exploded when she pointed her weapon towards them.

Now, Charlotte desperately wished it would just start working again.

What she had wanted in life had seemed simple. She had wanted to marry her school sweetheart and buy a house in a wizarding village, and fill up that house with gray-eyed, black-haired children. So many things had changed after her sixth year, and for a moment, she questioned whether that evening in the restricted section had started the snowball.

She hadn't been able to talk about it. Charlotte had been so afraid that Sirius would accuse her of changing sides that each time he had looked at her oddly, she had questioned if he knew. Even Louisa had noticed each time she flinched when Slughorn called her name in class, and when she was suddenly absent at Slug Club. Her excuses had been numerous – she was feeling ill, she had fallen behind in class.

Charlotte had taken strenuous effort into pretending it hadn't happened.

But each time she caught sight of the Potions professor, she could recall the feeling of rough sugar on her fingers, the crunch of the sweet between her teeth. She could recall the thoughts running through the professor's mind, pondering why he had never married, if he could collect more photographs of his students because he had no family of his own.

Charlotte swallowed.

Severus didn't understand.

Legilimency allowed brief visitations to other minds, like stepping into another's house.

Possession was something entirely different.

It ripped the door from the hinges, soaked into the very floorboards. During a possession, Charlotte stopped being Charlotte.

Each time, she felt a little less like herself.

Before that evening in the library, Charlotte had hated crystallized pineapple.

Afterwards, it had been her favorite.

She had hated firewhiskey. She had loved red wine.

Possession changed her with every trespass.

Each possession replaced another part of her, as though shoving and forcing pieces of a puzzle that didn't belong together, had come from different boxes.

Charlotte could no longer remember which bits had always been hers and which she had acquired from others.

Her fingers reached to wipe the snot running from her nose but came away empty.

The smoke had been disturbed by her gesture. She caught sight of it from the corner of her eye.

There was no feeling of ice pressing against a burn.

Her entire body was on fire.

Her jaw chattered from the cold.

This house had never felt like home, she realized as she felt her bones popping, because it was never meant to be her home.

Charlotte leaned forward, dropping her wand, and watched smoke spill from her nostrils as she choked for air.

It was a prison without dementors.

It didn't need them.

_Let me out_, it growled.

Charlotte's chattering teeth snapped together, her jaw clenching as she tried to suck a breath in through the nose that spilled inky smoke.

_You want to let me out._

She had made her very own.

* * *

Thank you everyone for your sweet reviews last week. I was having a particularly crappy week as I've just gone back to work after my surgery and they really made my day. I couldn't ask for better readers! Let me know what you think about this next chapter, and I wanted to get your thoughts on a chapter in a different perspective (like Snape's or Lupin's).

Always,

\- Holly

**House Cup Rules**

A few people have asked me to elaborate on the rules for the House Cup. Your House receives 5 Points per every review that mentions your House. You can review once per chapter. Now, bring your House to glory!

Slytherin - 110

Hufflepuff - 65

Gryffindor - 10

Ravenclaw - 15


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

* * *

Severus Snape hated hospitals.

He hated the smells associated with them, the dull chatter, the stuffiness.

St. Mungo's was not unlike the hospital his mother had died in, despite its place in the wizarding world.

Eileen Snape had died in a London hospital, with the odors of antiseptic in her nose, the incessant beeping of monitoring devices robbing her of sleep. He recalled the way she had thrashed in her slumber, whimpering as the illness took what remained of her vitality, and she had passed in pain and discomfort. Muggle drugs never had quite the same effect on witches or wizards, but Tobias Snape had been insistent. He hadn't wanted his wife dying in a place for _those_ sorts.

Charlotte was sleeping, and Severus discerned no sign of distress on her face. Color had returned to her blued lips; her milky skin had grown rosy. It was the fever, Severus had to remind himself, not any sign of improvement or renewed strength.

When Albus had pulled him from his lesson that morning, Severus had assumed it was to renew their discussion on Charlotte's treatment plan. Two days had passed since his initial conversation. Albus, unsurprisingly, had been strongly opposed to Snape's suggestion that Charlotte attempt to complete another possession. Even his proposal to use a prisoner from Azkaban had been shot down.

Instead, the headmaster had brought him to his office wordlessly. They had seated themselves across from one another at his desk, and Severus had attempted to disguise his impatience.

Only then, had Albus told him.

That Remus had found Charlotte that morning in their house on Spinner's End, after breaking down the front door. It appeared she had been laying there for days.

As Albus continued, Severus found himself focusing on a shrill noise in his ears. It had begun as a quiet ring, unlike the monitor that had sounded as his mother finally succumbed to her illness – until it screamed in his ears.

It was likely best, he thought absently now, that Albus had accompanied him to the hospital.

The sight of her, in a potion-induced slumber, had been the only remedy to the tightness of his chest and the burning of his throat.

Severus had not moved from the chair since he fell into it.

She looked child-like in her sleep; her face relaxed in a way he had not seen in years. Her fingers had curled around her blankets in a way not unlike a child clutches a teddy. A healer – or, perhaps, Louisa, who had been with her when he arrived – had braided her hair in a heavy plait down her back, removing the coffee colored curtain from her pale face.

His arm ached as he stretched it from the crossed position against his chest. The elbow cracked as it straightened, his back protested as he leaned forward. Hours had passed since his arrival, but Severus could not bring himself to move. Flexing, his fingers gently caught the tendril of hair in danger of tickling her nose, and softly tucked it behind her ear.

"You should really try to get some sleep, Severus," Louisa's voice interrupted the quiet, and he turned his eyes. The witch leaned against the door frame, her own eyes perhaps as tired as his own, "It'll be hours before that potion wears off. I told them to give her a heavy dose."

"I'm fine," the wizard responded, his voice thick, "I don't need to sleep."

Louisa frowned, "You'll be little use to her tomorrow when she wakes up if you're half-dead from exhaustion."

Severus scowled.

"I'll take a turn. At least go and stretch your legs. I've got a half hour before I need to leave."

The prospect of a cup of tea made his stomach growl noticeably. Hours had passed since he arrived, he realized as he caught sight of the clock hanging above the door. He had missed all but breakfast, and his mornings were satisfied with little more than toast.

"Go on," Louisa was slipping into the chair opposite of him, "I have her."

If it had been anyone else, Severus thought absently as he flexed the muscles in his legs, he would have remained seated. He trusted the Rosier witch enough.

He had trusted her enough that night, as Charlotte was dying on the Malfoy Manor floor.

"Can you get me a cup if it isn't too much trouble?"

Severus made a noise of agreement as he stood, his bones protesting with the sudden movement. Age was catching up to him in a way that was altogether disagreeable.

Night had taken over the hospital, the corridors were relatively empty aside from bleary-eyed healers and house-elves toting trays. His footsteps were quiet as he reached a small cafeteria, and his eyes dragged over the tea selection before selecting two paper cups. He dumped three sugars into the second and scooped up a pair of wrapped sandwiches.

Albus had supplied answers to the healer's questions. Charlotte had been practicing alchemy, and something appeared to have gone wrong with her experiments. The idea was thoughtful and altogether plausible. It would make sense, the healers agreed, that her illness arose from side-effects of alchemic potions, her state likely an after-effect of the life sources required to perform such advanced magic. It was a well-executed excuse for the lack of magic present in her emaciated body.

Was it possible, he wondered, for someone to be wasting away so quickly?

Two – perhaps it was three, now – days ago, they had sat across from each other in Hogsmeade sharing a pitcher of beer and a basket of chips. Her weight loss had been less noticeable then, offset by the broad smile which stretched her cheeks and made her eyes bright despite their yellow tinge. In truth, he would not have minded if they had shared a pitcher in the Three Broomsticks. As he had descended from the castle, it had been his first choice. Upon seeing her, the blueness of her lips, he had steered her towards the less-popular pub.

Severus had been unsure what he would have done if someone had remarked on her appearance.

He took his time returning to the critical care ward, pausing at the corners to stretch his legs and twist his back for a relief-filled crack or pop. Louisa was still seated alongside his slumbering wife when he returned, her legs slung over the side of the armchair, a magazine spread across her lap. He deposited a sandwich in her lap and passed her a cup of tea, before resuming his post.

"Thanks, Severus," Louisa began peeling the paper from her sandwich, "I haven't eaten a thing."

Above Charlotte's cheeks, the skin stretched across her temple bones.

Louisa watched his silent assessment as his eyes swept down to the tendons, sticking out like wires, against his wife's throat.

"We've given her some draughts to bring her weight up," Her voice was soft.

Severus snorted, "I've been giving them to her for months."

"I saw her just a week ago," Louisa was staring at Charlotte's bony hand, "She didn't look like this."

"It's killing her."

The words left his mouth unbidden.

A tightness stretched across his chest, pulling at his ribs.

Months ago, he would have argued that Charlotte was capable of overcoming an obscurus. He had been confident in his research. Paired with Dumbledore's agreement, they had both felt that determining the cause of Charlotte's obscurus would solve the issue entirely. It had been a simple matter of determining what instance had caused her to stop performing magic. Albus had suggested that the cure lay in performing the very magic Charlotte had been afraid to perform.

At first, Severus had assumed it would be something frivolous. An Unforgiveable, perhaps, or perhaps a spell she had cast during the raid against the Ministry. It had never occurred to him that the possessions had been the root of it all. Especially not the first one she had whispered in the library.

Ignorance, perhaps, or denial had clouded his judgement.

Charlotte had never liked performing possessions.

Each time she would be sick for hours, her body shaking with the effort. For days afterward, she was utterly useless, whispering to herself in the corridors, staring at mirrors.

It had taken exhaustive efforts to encourage her to continue, though Severus realized now that it had never taken much. The threat to her life had been enough to light the fire which drew her to the room in Malfoy Manor where she conducted her work.

His face darkened at the thought, and he busied himself with unwrapping his own sandwich. The bread had grown soggy against the tomato, but he didn't mind. It was tasteless in his mouth, a mere substance to ensure that he could continue his post at her bedside.

Dumbledore had brought in a substitute to take over his lesson plans. He was on an undetermined amount of leave from Hogwarts, which was disconcerting enough. He doubted there was now a soul within the staff that was not aware that his wife was in hospital – or that he was married, at all, as this was information he did share – and likely a good portion of the student body would follow.

Remus and other members of the Order had volunteered to clear what remained of his house on Spinner's End. From what he had been told, only the exterior remained intact, protected by charms to ensure that despite the chaos that dwelled within its walls, that it would maintain a normal appearance unsuspicious to his muggle neighbors.

For the better part of two days, his wife had lain on the charred floor of his house. She had been alone. Her body had been burned; she had broken seventeen bones.

Lupin had told Albus that when he arrived for her lesson, he thought Charlotte had been cooking a roast.

The healers had done talented work on her. Only her legs appeared to be scarred, marred with thick blisters and split skin. Every few hours, a healer arrived to remove the bloodied dressings and reapply the burn pastes.

From the Order's inspection of the house, it appeared that Charlotte had, at some point, dragged herself onto the rug she had purchased shortly before his departure. Severus had charmed it to resist fire, as it was in close proximity to the fireplace, and Charlotte was particularly talented at setting things ablaze during her fits. She had dragged herself, they concluded after the healer's report, because her legs had been broken. Three fractures were present in her left leg, her right had a compound fracture of the femur, which had broken through the thick muscle of her thigh and protruded through her leg like a stake.

_It was trying to kill her._

The wolf's angry voice filled his mind, and Severus found that for once, he could not disagree with him.

Obscurus were known for murdering their hosts in a variety of fashions. Often, they drove their hosts to end their own lives. They wasted them away and caused accidents to happen.

Severus thought he had done an adequate enough job to ensure that most of these accidents were impossible in Spinner's End. He had spelled the staircase to soften falls. The knives in his kitchen drawers were charmed to grow dull if they hit human flesh. He set reminders on the living room clock to call Charlotte to mealtimes.

In all of his research, he had not found an instance in which the obscurus plotted such an elaborate plan to murder its host in cold blood. It had broken her legs, dislocated her shoulder and broken the other. The fire had spread from the fireplace – that was common, enough, he recalled – but all the rest of it.

His chest felt unnaturally tight.

The level of pain must have been excruciating, at a level equal to a Cruciatus Curse. To feel your bones breaking of their own accord, watching your body catch fire. As the thoughts entered his mind, unbidden, Severus felt ill.

_She was resisting._

Dumbledore's explanation for the extent of her injuries did nothing to soothe him.

"She's a tough old girl," Louisa was saying, "She'll make it through."

Severus was no longer certain if that were plausible.

He could not simply take the remainder of the school year under leave and watch over her. There was no promise that this would be remedied with his solution, or how long she could withstand the constant effort it took to keep the smoke at bay. Too often he had caught her pinching her nose as the inked fog seeped through her nostrils, whispering to herself.

At some point, she would have nothing left to fight it with.

"Send someone for me when she wakes up," Louisa was crumpling her sandwich's paper, "I have to go back for my shift. I'll be close by – I'm just across the corridor in maternity."

Severus nodded.

He sat quietly for several moments, his eyes watching the rise and fall of Charlotte's back as she took soft, even breaths. Her shoulder blades pressed against the thin, lavender hospital gown like tiny fragile wings.

The ringing resumed in his ears, soft and quiet against the gentle sounds of her breaths.

"I will kill you," he found himself whispering in the silence, "If you touch my wife again, I will _fucking kill you_."

The illegality bothered him very little, if at all.

Severus had never held much regard for wizarding law.

It hadn't protected his mother from his drunken, heavy-fisted father.

It hadn't protected Lily.

If Dumbledore didn't want to drag someone from Azkaban for it, Severus had other options. He had not gone to the headmaster's office that evening without contingency plans. Albus had never cared much for his directness, his questionable morals.

Charlotte could only be processed for criminal magic if she was reported for it.

Severus had no intention of reporting her.

There would need to be a level of preparation. He was prepared to address the potential concerns he had recognized. Occlumency was questionably successful against possession, but there were thoughts, memories, and ideas that he preferred to remain privately his own. A few days, he thought absently, would give him enough time to prepare.

Charlotte had seen nearly everything, he reminded himself, if she hadn't been present for it herself.

_Nearly everything._

Albus needn't know.

His eyes were growing tired, and he bid them to stay open longer. He watched the rise and fall of her shoulder, his breath ready to shout if it stilled. A large swallow of his tea scalded his tongue, but he reveled in the soft ache that filled his mouth.

"_Sev, will you bloody wait for me?"_

_ His long legs had carried him halfway down the corridor, as he turned to watch the brown-haired witch scramble through the common room door. She looked particularly awkward in a pair of red sweatpants that appeared to belong to Sirius, and an over-sized t-shirt that could have belonged to any Slytherin quidditch player. Her short legs carried her down to meet him at the stairwell bottom, her eyes narrowed and disapproving._

"_Afraid Slughorn might miss you?"_

"_No," but her words were too quick, "I just think you could use supervision."_

"_Are you a qualified chaperone, Fraser?" _

_ Charlotte snorted as they quietly climbed stairs, "For you I am." _

Severus recalled her face then, unlined by the worries of dark magic. Her nose had scrunched in her smile, showing pin-point dimples. Now, her the products of her good breeding, high cheekbones and a slender button nose, pressed against her paper skin.

It was easy to see the cost of war in Charlotte's face.

_You're a half-blood Severus, you'll need to give him something of value to join._

Of value.

_Something that will help us win the war._

As he watched the rise and fall of his wife's shoulder, he felt his skin prick with goosebumps. Even now, he could hear Malfoy's voice as though the conversation had taken place moments ago, not at the cusp of his Hogwarts graduation.

_A weapon._

There would be preparation time needed before he unleashed Charlotte upon his mind. He knew the stories of her tenacity within another's mind, and there were visions that once seen, would disrupt the life he had built with the Fraser girl on Spinner's End permanently.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It took me quite a bit to write Snape's perspective and I hope I did it some justice after overdosing on caffeine and watching every available clip on Youtube of our lovely Potion Master. I have made it extra long to make up for the lack of post last week, but we will resume weekly postings moving forward!

* * *

Bring your House to Glory with the House Cup! 5 Points to your House for every review that mentions your House name!

Slytherins are currently leading by a long shot. Gryffindors are mysteriously absent.

**House Cup**

Slytherin - 120

Hufflepuff - 75

Ravenclaw - 20

Gryffindor - 10


	19. Chapter 19

Can I say that in my absence from , you all have turned me into a blubbering mess coming back? I have never had this many reviews for a story, and I truly want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful reviews. I have been pretty sick and honestly, this chapter was brutal to write. It did not happen the way I wanted it to, but I'm pleased with the end result after a week or so of edits. Please enjoy Chapter Nineteen, and keep an eye out for Chapter Twenty, to be posted tomorrow.

* * *

_ It was difficult not to notice her, Severus reasoned._

_ Her dark chocolate hair, the butterscotch shade of her hazel eyes, the way her cupid bow's mouth curved so easily into a smile._

_ Standing a few aisles away from her in Slug and Jiggers, he could easily discern the sweet cinnamon and orange perfume she had started wearing in his sixth year. He watched her carefully slide a fingertip towards a box of bezoars and found his mouth twitching. _

_ The last year of Potions was excruciatingly difficult. At a NEWT level, students were preparing for grueling coursework. Severus found himself wondering if she had finally decided on a career. She had been indecisive when he last saw her, before graduation. _

_ He swallowed as he tied off the bag of lacewing flies and wondered if she would notice him. It was late in the summer to be shopping for school supplies. Seeing Charlotte would not be altogether unpleasant. She had always been kind to him, perhaps he could consider her a close acquaintance. _

_ However, the company she kept left much to be desired._

"_Severus?"_

_ His eyelids closed._

_ When they reopened, she was smiling as she maneuvered around a display of cauldrons, her basket brimming with familiar ingredients._

"_Charlotte," he greeted quietly, stretching his hand out for an informal grasp._

_ The brunette snorted at his outstretched fingers and pulled him into an uncomfortably close hug._

"_How are you?"_

_ Severus blinked. _

_ She was thinner, the dimples in her cheeks less pronounced in a slim face. Her hair looked somehow less like silky chocolate and more like – he was nearly embarrassed to admit – common garden soil. Over the summer, Severus had accepted a position as a Potions Apprentice. He had found a small flat in London that took the majority of his wages and spent his free time with Lucius and the others from Slytherin. _

_ He doubted that Charlotte Fraser cared about any of that._

"_Fine," he answered safely instead, "And you?"_

"_Good," she answered too quickly, "Just getting ready to go back for term. Is it odd, to not go back?"_

_ Severus hummed agreement, noting the unease in which her eyes darted around the shop. _

_ Perhaps she did not want to be seen with him. _

"_Have you selected a career?"_

"_I might try to reopen my father's apothecary," Charlotte's voice carried off, "Maybe." _

_ Severus felt his mouth twitch._

"_I'm not indecisive," she snapped quickly, "Don't start with that again."_

"_Of course," He replied reasonably._

_ Her butterscotch eyes narrowed, "Thank you."_

_ They stood shoulder to shoulder, Severus inspecting a jar of lovage, Charlotte fiddling with her ingredient pouches absently._

"_Sirius and I aren't together anymore," she said quietly._

_ Severus felt his eyes widen; his shoulders stiffened._

"_We were too different."_

_ Severus made a noncommittal noise, attempting to discern if she noticed the change of pace in his breathing. He wondered if she could hear the hammering beneath his chest._

"_I'm sure Regulus will tell you all about it," her fingers wound around a ribbon-tied bag of beetle eyes._

"_Regulus?" _

"_Walburga…" Charlotte drifted off, "It's fine. Never mind." _

_ Too abruptly, he found himself staring at her. _

"_You can write to me, at Hogwarts," he said suddenly._

_ Her soft butterscotch eyes looked up at him, rimmed with liquid, "Really?"_

_ Severus nodded awkwardly._

"_I would really love that." _

_ She smiled, the now-smaller dimples pressing into her cheeks. _

_ Too quickly, they finished their shopping. Severus stalled his departure, watching her talk with the owner, her fingers and hands moving with every sentence. _

_ Walburga._

_ Severus had wondered, often, what had incited the otherwise selfish pureblood to take on another child. Charlotte had been young when her parents were killed. Though the liquidation of their estate had likely brought in substantial profit, that money had all gone to the Fraser vault in Gringott's. _

_ But she was a pureblood, from an old family. Perhaps not as prestigious as the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Frasers were still a respected pureblooded family, and Charlotte was the last of them. If he chose to be analytical on the matter – and he did so choose to be – he doubted that Walburga would allow Charlotte to break things off with her estranged son without an expectation of her to pay back the labor and time she had spent raising the witch. She would want a return on her investment. _

_ He watched her as she thanked the shop keeper, who made a short comment about it being a pleasure to assist Malcolm Fraser's daughter. _

_ A pleasure, perhaps, since her father's death had increased his sales tenfold._

_ Charlotte passed a wry smile and met him by the door, she passed through it as he opened it._

"_Would you like to get an ice cream? Or a lemonade?"_

_ Severus wanted to. _

_ But shortly his master would be wondering why it had taken over an hour for him to fetch a few ounces of lacewing flies and boomslang skin, and this early in his apprenticeship, Severus was not inclined to make the old wizard wait._

"_I have to return to work," he answered regretfully instead._

_ Her smile faltered, but she caught the expression slipping and he saw it reappear on her lips, though they pulled in an unnatural way, her butterscotch eyes dim._

"_Perhaps we can see one another before you return to Hogwarts."_

_ He could ask his master for an afternoon off, he thought absently, watching the forced smile bloom genuinely once more on her milky face. _

"_I would enjoy that," she replied, "Should I invite Regulus along as well?"_

"_No."_

_ Severus regretted the way the syllable left his mouth so quickly, but it appeared not to phase Charlotte. He supposed that her friends likely felt the same way about Regulus Black, who was a naturally dislikable individual for his stifling charisma, and that he was a bothersome know-it-all._

"_I'll see you soon then," Charlotte smiled, "It was nice to see you, Severus." _

_ As Severus made the short walk from Slug & Jitter's to the Leaky Cauldron, he still felt the warmth of her body wrapping around him as she squeezed him into a hug before she hurried down the alleyway toward a familiar blonde head leaving Madam Malkin's. Of course, she had been there with Louisa. Louisa, he recalled, who had hated Sirius Black – and Regulus – and had cornered him after an evening of House Cup celebrations to demand he declare feelings for her roommate. _

_ What Louisa lacked in thoughtfulness, she more than made up for it in her assertive behavior._

_ But Severus had not made any indication of his boyhood feelings for Charlotte. She was a pureblood witch and sought after in their circle. When tied to Black, their opportunity for interaction outside of the Slytherin common room had been minimal and rushed. Now, if she were truly tied to Regulus, it would be no different. The Black brothers had always had a keen interest in the dark-haired ward of their mother. Severus, a poor wizard living in a roach-infested flat, stood as much of a chance with Charlotte Fraser as a snowball in Hell. _

_ His master had made no comment about his late return other than a loud grunt of displeasure, and Severus spent the afternoon brewing batches of Polyjuice. It was a simple potion enough to allow his thoughts to wander to a girl and a boy hovered over a book in a library, whispering words they could never take back._

**Something valuable**_, Lucius had demanded of him._

_ Possession was not achievable by any witch or wizard._

_ It required a complex mind to sift through a thousand personalities, faces, attributes, to singly pursue a consciousness. _

_ She had done it so easily._

_ It would have been a lie to admit the thought of it did not cause his skin to grow cold. _

_ While Legilimency was invasive enough, it was calculating and precise. Severus attributed it to getting a shot at the doctor's office, such as when he had grown ill as a boy and his father had taken him to a muggle doctor. _

_ Possession was surgery without anesthetic. _

_ He had wondered, often, into the summer if Slughorn had been aware of the invasion. The portly wizard certainly had not appeared to treat Charlotte any different. Though, Charlotte was particularly talented in Potions, and was one of Slughorn's favorite pupils. Severus, despite his mastery of the class, did not meet the other requirements of Slughorn's foolish club. Perhaps there was more forgiveness involved when you came from a wealthy, powerful family, and were tied to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight._

_ Charlotte had always appeared good-natured and friendly. In his research, those talented in possession carried tendencies likened to sociopathy. They were not typically capable of empathy or genuine relationships. Severus had witnessed – on multiple counts – Charlotte being empathetic and carrying true friendships. She did not meet the typical classification of a witch capable of the magic._

_ That, in itself, carried value._

_ Despite his effort, he could not rid the images from his mind. The pearl-white her eyes had morphed into, the way her entire body had stilled and grown cold. It had been only moments, perhaps, that she had been gone, coming back with a choking gasp. She had trembled their entire walk back to the common room, and Severus could quietly hear her swallowing. No words had been spoken between them; the corridors only filled with the sounds of their shoes on the stone floors. _

_ Severus made a mental note to write a letter to Lucius before he retired for the evening. It had been several days since their conversation, and Severus's failed attempts to rise within the Dark Lord's ranks. He was still resigned to carrying out foolish errands. They were beneath him._

**Something valuable**.

_Something valuable, indeed. _

Butterscotch eyes were watching him when his own opened.

For a moment, he felt his stomach drop, as his mind grasped and reinforced the wall of his mind.

"Charlotte," he said, his voice thick with sleep.

Charlotte peered at Severus; her eyes were bloodshot within her thin face.

She watched him in silence for several moments.

"I'll get Louisa," he said, standing from his seat.

She noted the crumpled wrappers and empty, stained paper cups littering the table alongside her bed. He must have been there for some time, she thought.

"What did you do, Severus?"

The wizard froze outside the doorway, his fingers grasping the silver knob.

The croak of her voice had turned the air stagnant within the small hospital room. Its crackling syllables pressed against the wallpaper. She could hear him swallow, her own ears ringing.

When he turned, his face was a cool mask. There was no indication that he had properly heard her, his eyes were calm, but she caught the small flutter of discomfort as his jaw tightened.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, "What did you do?"

"I don't understand your meaning, Charlotte."

"Something _valuable_."

The puzzled stare that followed her words was perhaps only a momentary expression.

It lasted a second or more.

Charlotte couldn't recall.

All she could recall was the burn, and the ice that followed.

It was the sudden movement, as she flung the sheets from her burned legs and stood upon them, despite the pain that shot to her bones. She saw, for a moment, that Severus had attempted to open the door, but it was suddenly slammed closed. His hand dropped from the knob, and his dark eyes turned to look within her own.

All it would take was a second, she recalled.

She did not need the words.

They were engrained in her very brain.

_Unus ex amino._

_Os ex ossibus meis__._

_Spiro tibi respirare__. _

_Tibi respirare et spiritus meus__._

She did not meet the classification of a witch capable of possession.

She was capable of empathy.

She was capable of relationships.

Despite the image of her sewn by Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin, Charlotte knew what she was capable of.

She was, after all, a Death Eater.

It took perhaps a moment to press against his mind. Charlotte felt his reinforced defenses, her fingers pressing for any seams, any cracks. Vaguely, she could hear a choking scream. Dumbledore's Charlotte, she thought for a moment, would have stopped then. Instead, her fists fell upon the walls in a familiar gesture, her frustration mounting.

The black smoke dissolved them.

They disintegrated to ash as she pressed through them.

It was there, stowed carefully in his mind, that she found them.

_Something valuable_.

She did not mind her gestures. Her fingers tore the memories from their shelves, smashing them open with fury as she watched them play before her eyes.

"_I have something that could be of value to the Dark Lord."_

There had always been a reason Charlotte was not allowed into his pensieve.

"_Allow Regulus to become a Death Eater. Their marriage will bring her closer to us."_

There had been a reason that he had agreed to the contract pressed upon him by Dumbledore.

"_Some mistakes, Severus, you must pay for."_

Dumbledore, who had lied and known.

"_How long do you plan to keep this from her?"_

Severus, who had destroyed everything.

"_Regulus knows." _

Because it was there, in the maze of Severus Snape's mind, that she found them.

Every lie he had whispered to her in the dark.

"_If you spare her, my lord, I-I will train Charlotte. I will make her more valuable to you."_

* * *

Well... that was a tough one.

I will update this chapter later with our House Cup. The spontaneous addition of over 100 reviews makes my math skills spin a bit, but I will update this Chapter (and Twenty tomorrow) with updated House Cup Results.

As always, include your House Name in your review and gain 5 points to your House to bring it to glory.

At this time, our reigning House is Slytherin, of course.

Thank you again,

\- Holly


	20. Chapter 20

Hello lovelies! Sorry for the delay, but here is Chapter 20!

* * *

"_Something valuable."_

Blood dripped freely from Snape's ears and nose. He attempted to rise from where he had landed on the hospital room floor, face torn by his own fingernails.

"Why did you do it?"

Severus smeared the blood from his nose, reaching for his wand.

"Tell me why you did it, or I'm leaving."

"Do not give me ultimatums, Charlotte. Do not attempt to fool me with the belief that whatever I tell you will change your mind. You're already packed," he snarled.

Charlotte watched him heal the cuts to his face, his mouth moving with silent incantations. The blood still dripped from his nose, spotting the tiled floor with crimson. He seemed so much smaller now than he had just days before. Severus had always been a head taller than her, towering over her in their studies, peering together into her pensieve. Suddenly, he seemed twelve inches tall.

"Why would you do that to me? We were – I thought we had been friends."

Severus snorted, "I never had any friends."

"I was your friend," her voice was trembling, "All that last year, we wrote back and forth. I told you – I told you _everything_."

She felt nauseous, her knees smacked together painfully.

How many secrets had she poured into parchment for him? She couldn't count them. Charlotte couldn't recall feeling more alone than she had in her final year at Hogwarts. Severus, who had hated Sirius for as long as she could remember, had been a welcome ally. He had not judged her for her choices. He had never called her foolish or selfish.

But he had taken all those secrets and marched them straight to the Dark Lord.

Severus had known, of course, that Walburga Black held all of Charlotte's money. Every galleon made from the liquidation of her parents' assets had sat in the Black vault in Gringott's. It had been Walburga's bargaining chip, when the cards fell with Sirius.

Charlotte would marry Regulus and get her money.

Severus had known that there was no romantic love between her and the younger Black brother. They had been as siblings, growing up together. In their townhome in London, they had not even shared a bedroom. It had worked well for each of them; Regulus had been afforded the freedom of being out of his mother's house, and Charlotte had finally gained some – albeit limited – independence.

He took every carefully whispered sliver and deposited each of them into the Dark Lord's palm.

"But you said," and she froze.

Because no matter how often the wizard had whispered those words in the dark, he had certainly never said them to her.

They had been mumbled over her head as she slept in the Leaky Cauldron's inn, screamed in his mind as she lay dying on the floor of Malfoy Manor.

_I love you_.

Severus stared up at her, and she took note of the cool mask he had affixed in place.

He would never tell her.

Not now.

There had always been a cord between them. A thick one, made of steel, that connected them through the years. He had been one of Reg's closest friends in Hogwarts. He had been her tutor. In her final year at Hogwarts, she had felt as though he had become one of her best friends. She had told him things that she had not dared to say to anyone. The cord now hung between them, limp and tattered from her invasion of his mind, from the war, the obscurus.

"I love Lily," he corrected her.

It snapped.

"You asked me why I did it? For _her_. You and I becoming friends was never an intention of mine. You ignored me all those years to hang off every one of Black's words. I wanted you because it seemed fitting. I sacrificed you for Evans, and she died anyway. Dumbledore demanded I take responsibility. Our marriage is a promise made to Dumbledore to atone for my many sins," the dark-haired wizard snarled at her, "Did I have feelings for you? I did, you ignorant, selfish woman! You trampled on them for years and expected me to, what, not sacrifice the only woman who ever gave a fuck about me?"

"Lily Potter never gave a fuck about you."

Severus blinked, the color at his cheeks beginning to fade from his shouts.

"Lily Potter left you, in the corridor, all night to cry outside the Fat Lady's portrait because you called her a _mudblood_," Charlotte heard the words leave her mouth, but she could not longer stop herself, "She married James, who tormented you. She witnessed them torture you, and attempt to _kill_ you, and did nothing. Lily Potter never gave a fuck about you, Severus. If you're still unable to see that, then I'm certainly not going to bother enlightening you further."

Charlotte stared down at him, her eyes burning.

"You let them do that to me. You watched me do it and saw what it did to me," she whispered, "Everything that my life should have been – could have been – wasn't. It was all because of you; all so you could save Lily Potter because you were stupid enough to join that war in the first place."

"Did you do nothing in your youth that you're ashamed of?"

"I didn't _sell my friends!_"

"Wilhemina Wilkes?"

Charlotte's mouth snapped closed, her eyes widening, "I did not-!"

Snape stood and towered over her, his face morphing to a hateful sneer. She wondered if she had ever seen him look at her in such a way. His shoulders shook as he reached up to smear the blood dripping from his nose.

"Tell me what you would have done in my place. What would you have done, if it had been your precious Black that he had demanded? Your life was never in any danger, I made you useful! I didn't exchange anything! I saved your life, just as I had done before!"

_Useful_.

The word hung between their panted, angry breaths.

"Dumbledore wants to use me if he comes back."

"I have already told Albus that I will not allow-!"

"You've already made promises to Dumbledore, Severus."

His lips parted and closed in a firm, tightened line.

_I love you_.

_I have something that could be of value to the Dark Lord._

_Promise me, Severus._

"Do you think he truly cares what you'll allow if he comes back?"

"The Dark Lord will want to use your obscurus. I intend to rid you of it before that time comes."

"Then what will be left between us?"

Severus's eyes narrowed, "Plenty."

"Nothing."

"You know how I feel now," he said, his voice quiet thunder.

"I know that you were willing to let me become _this_ so you could save _her_."

_If you spare her, my lord, I-I will train Charlotte. I will make her more valuable to you._

"If he had asked me for Sirius, I never could have done this to you," she whispered, her hands fisting painfully at her sides, "I would never have done this to you."

Charlotte stared up at the dark-haired wizard with pitch eyes and broad shoulders.

"I used to think the world of you," she said softly.

Quickly, he turned and left the room. She watched his hand rip the door open, and watched his shoulders grow smaller as he walked further from her. Her breath felt tight in her lungs, her fingers trembled.

_I love you._

"I loved you, too."

When Charlotte returned to Spinner's End several days later, the house was empty. Louisa stood alongside her and as they opened the door to their shared bedroom, the blonde seized her hand and squeezed it tightly.

St. Mungo's had discharged her without much fuss. She had gained a healthy amount of weight and was showing signs of improvement. The bandages on her legs would have to stay a few days more, and would likely scar, but she had been given an otherwise clean bill of health.

Louisa hadn't argued with her when she asked for the witch's help to pack her things. She had asked Charlotte if she was certain and requested no further explanation. The day Charlotte was discharged, she had declined Louisa's offer to let her stay with her.

For the first time, Charlotte had thought, she wanted to be alone.

She didn't have many things at Spinner's End. Aside from the dresser, Charlotte had no other furniture in the house. They had made quick work of her clothing and books. Staring at the spelled trunk Louisa had brought along to carry her things, Charlotte wondered how her life had ended up amounting to two bags of clothing, a single chest of drawers, and several dozen smutty romance novels.

"Don't look too hard at it," Louisa whispered to her, quickly closing it, "We'll get you some new things."

Charlotte made a noncommittal noise, staring at the crisply made bed she had shared with Severus. Her breath caught as she recalled their first night together, as his arms enveloped and tightened around her.

She couldn't remember a time she had felt safer.

Now, it all seemed tainted – like coffee spreading on parchment. There was a darkness to every moment of it now. Every memory was poisoned.

"Let's go," Lou grabbed her hand, and Charlotte looked at her with blurred eyes, "We need to go."

"What did I do wrong, Lou?"

The blonde paused, securing the trunk's buckles.

"I've been married twice," her voice cracked, "I'm twenty-three years old and I've been married twice and somehow, I'm still going to be alone."

"You aren't alone," Louisa replied firmly, "You have me."

Quickly, the taller witch straightened herself and grabbed Charlotte's hand, "We're leaving."

They descended the stairs silently, passing through the scorched remains of the living room, and Charlotte's eye latched on the cracked teapot sitting on the corner, steam still spilling from its spout.

"Don't look back."

Louisa's hand tightened around hers and pulled her through the doorway.

_I loved you, too._

Charlotte wondered if he was in the basement, stowed away to listen to their quick packing. She wondered if he had stood by the door, waiting with stilled breaths for them to leave.

He had not returned to St. Mungo's and Charlotte had been grateful for it. It had been Remus to tell her that Severus had returned to Hogwarts and advised the Order that Charlotte was leaving. He had been the one to use the word 'divorce'.

Twenty-three years old. Widowed and divorced.

It seemed like the beginning to one of her romance novels.

The blanket of security she had wrapped herself with being married to Snape was now gone. In the pureblooded world, she was used goods. She doubted she would ever be married again, and with that, her hopes of having a family – the kind she wanted – were gone. No mother like Walburga Black would allow their pureblooded son to marry a woman who had been married twice and produced no children. Especially not one who was branded a Death Eater.

As Charlotte lay between the sheets of her bed in the Leaky Cauldron's inn, she stared at the faded mark.

Three years ago, it had shifted and twirled around her arm like a living creature. It had grown hot and cold, summoned and banished.

Now, it looked no different than the tattoo Sirius had gotten in London muggle shop after running away. It lay dead on her arm, somehow just as sinister as the day he had branded it onto her arm.

It had been the highest honor bestowed to Death Eaters. The others had been left with their cheap green tokens. Charlotte had been a Death Eater for over a year before the Dark Lord had branded her part of his inner circle.

Now, it left her caught between the two worlds.

The one controlled by purebloods, where she was used and useless – tainted now, by the Dark Lord's failure to uphold his promises. Their numbers culled to rot in Azkaban.

The other, controlled by Dumbledore; Dumbledore, who wanted to use her should the Dark Lord ever return. It had been the only reason the rest of them had accepted her under the guise of protection and safety.

Charlotte rolled between the sheets, pressing her nose against the pillows which still reeked of mothballs and lye soap. She felt at the corners of her mind the for the smoke, stretching to search every crevice as her eyes closed. For perhaps an hour, she looked for it before letting out an exasperated growl and reaching for her wand.

"Accio paperweight," she called.

From the charmed trunk it appeared, spinning through the air as she quickly reached to catch it.

There was no elation as she stared at the gold-flecked serpent suspended in glass. There was no joy or relief. Rather, a sense of dread settled between her shoulders as she caught the jeweled eyes with her own.

Severus had been right.

_If you perform the magic which began this, I believe we can cure you._

In the days after her possession, she had been distraught. No black smoke had spilled from her nostrils, no lamps had exploded in her hospital room. In almost an eerie fashion, all was quiet between her ears where the ringing had once filled them at deafening levels. There had been nothing, but the typical symptoms associated with any time she possessed someone.

If she weren't an obscurial – if the obscurus was gone – what benefit was she to anyone?

* * *

I rewrote this chapter five times and I hope I did the reaction justice.

Is her obscurus gone?

House Cup will be updated sometime this weekend.

I'm having difficulty getting through all of your wonderful reviews (which might be the most amazing "problem" I've ever had).

As always, leave your House name in the reviews and your House will receive 5 points.

Bring your House to Glory!


	21. Chapter 21

THREE HUNDRED REVIEWS? WHAT?

I would like to do a shout-out to my most recent reviewers! DeeD59, C.C. Baker, KatharineDunLevy, thank you so much. Every review makes me procrastinate at my job more than it ought to, and I appreciate every single one of them.

Please enjoy Chapter Twenty-One.

* * *

"I often questioned whether we had done an injustice to you."

Charlie's jaw tightened.

"You were such a brilliant student. Quite promising."

Truthfully, she had wondered when the wizard would arrive.

Six months had passed since she had left Spinner's End. Each knock at the door of her room in the Leaky Cauldron brought suspicion.

"Ms. Fraser, we've been here for an hour and you haven't said a word."

It had taken weeks for Tom to stop calling her 'Mrs. Snape', even after she had thrown the Ministry document at him showing that she had legally returned to her maiden name. Dumbledore used the surname with ease, as though he had practiced it. Perhaps he had been referring to her as such since she left Snape's house.

She glanced down to the tea in front her, now tepid. The tea leaves lay still at the cup's bottom, morphed into something her divination professor would have encouraged her to decipher.

To Charlie, they had always been just tea leaves.

"What would you like me to say?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at her as he smiled, "How are you finding yourself?"

Her lips twitched, "How am I finding myself?"

"Are you well?"

Charlie drummed manicured fingertips into the oiled pub table, staring at the headmaster's twinkling eyes, the calm smile he wore above his white beard. He had arrived in crushed velvet robes in a lavender so pale they were nearly silver, studded with constellation patterns.

In comparison, she had been wearing the same pair of sweatpants – an inherited item from Sirius – for the last four days. Despite Louisa's successful mission to bring her to Faustus, she had not bothered to wash her freshly cut and colored locks since she left the salon, nor had she bothered to send her laundry down with the housekeeper in the last two weeks. Her hair lay precariously piled into a bun that looked less messy than hazardous, and likely had remnants of mascara clinging to the corners of her eyes.

"Do I look well, professor?"

"Albus, dear," the headmaster corrected.

"We aren't friends, professor."

His hand paused as he lifted his own tepid tea, "We are not?"

Charlie's jaw was growing sore. The past hour had been spent grinding her teeth as she precariously attempted to balance between her two worlds.

If Narcissa – who had promised several times to stop by her next time in Diagon Alley with Draco – saw Charlie having tea with Dumbledore, it would reach the far corners of the pureblooded wizarding world before Big Ben struck midnight. On the other hand, shunning Dumbledore and treating him as she would have liked would mean leaving her unguarded and defenseless if the Dark Lord truly were to return at any moment.

Instead, she grit her teeth in silence, her face feeling hot.

"I'm sure that you have heard by now that Severus intends to contest your divorce."

Indeed, she had. After spending the better part of three hours at the Ministry of Magic over the past week attempting to bully her attorney's secretary to forging Snape's signature on the stack of parchment, she had left unsuccessful. Her name change had processed without trouble. Snape – who had been the first to use the word divorce, she reminded herself – had evidently dug his heels in.

"I have."

"May I speak frankly with you, Ms. Fraser?"

Charlie doubted Dumbledore had ever spoken frankly in his lifetime. However, rather than voice this aloud, she jerked her head in a motion that held enough resemblance to a nod.

"I agreed to assist Snape with the Voldemort's prophecy on several conditions, as I know you are aware," the old wizard began softly, "That he turn on Voldemort and begin working for the Order, being the most important. But the other was that he take responsibility for his actions."

A snort escaped her.

"I was not aware at that time that you would be a consequence of his actions, though I had some suspicions based on my conversations with Severus that all was not well. It was not until later I realized the extent of his actions, and the consequences you had been dealt for them."

Her throat had begun to feel tight and uncomfortable. She grabbed her teacup too quickly and swallowed a large gulp of cold tea.

"Ariana – my younger sister – is not someone I discuss often. She was very dear to me. She had an accident, at a young age, and was changed for it. It warped her; you see." Dumbledore looked away from her and stared down at his own half-filled teacup, "I saw so many similarities between you."

"She was an obscurial."

"Yes, she was," Dumbledore smiled, "Though, perhaps in less control. She was not schooled, you see, her trauma occurred at a very young age. My mother didn't want her around other people."

Charlie's fingernails had stilled on the stained table, "You didn't want me around other people, either."

"Habits are terrible things to break, Ms. Fraser."

"What happened to her, then, your sister?"

"She died," Dumbledore was watching her face carefully.

Six months had passed since Charlie had left Spinner's End. In those months, she had diligently kept up with her lessons with Remus. Despite the lack of explosions, her magic for all purposes was grossly stinted. Charlie doubted Remus had kept that information to himself. Her weight was returning to her, leaving her clothes ill-fitting and misshapen. Though Louisa had been pleased with her progress, which Charlie had blamed on Tom's cottage pies and breakfasts, she still felt on edge. At every opportunity, she used her wand for some purpose – summoning a book, turning off the light switch – for fear that at any moment, the hissing whispers and smoke would return.

"Please understand that what I asked of Severus – to marry you and be your guardian – was not done maliciously. I was selfish, I admit, for wanting you to come to the side of the Order should Voldemort ever return. However, I can quite truthfully say it was out of the resemblance you held with my sister."

"You lied to me."

Dumbledore raised a single brow, "In what way, Ms. Fraser?"

"You told me that marrying Snape was best for me in my circumstances. They were never about my circumstances. You wanted to use me for the Order."

A smile crossed his mouth, "I had no intention of using you for the Order, Ms. Fraser."

Charlie blinked, "What?"

"You have been used enough for a lifetime. I – quite simply – did not want you to land in the hands of Voldemort. His interest in obscurials is not unlike other dark wizards of my time. An obscurial in the hands of a dark wizard can only end in death."

"There was no benefit to you, then."

"Perhaps a lack of widespread devastation."

Charlie's mouth tightened, "Then why did you do it?"

The same question she had asked of Severus had only resulted in it being thrown back at her like a rebounded curse. She braced herself for the impact of Dumbledore's words.

"Because he loved you, as much as he is capable of loving anyone. In your own way, you had come to love him as a comrade and confidant. I believed that a marriage between you would begin healing the wounds both of you carry from your time in the war, and that Severus needed to take responsibility for his actions towards you."

He was not wrong, Charlie reminded herself. In her own way, she had come to love Severus. After years of believing him to be her closest ally amidst the Death Eaters, and their friendship both before and after the war, she had come to love the dark-haired wizard. Those feelings had never morphed to anything other than love between friends, until she had entered the house on Spinner's End.

She largely blamed those feelings on his possessiveness. Charlie had never felt wanted before. Her marriage to Regulus was all but arranged on parchment. Sirius had been pleased enough keeping their relationship relatively secretive at Hogwarts. Severus did not have any qualms about being openly possessive with her.

_You are mine_.

Six months after leaving, those feelings sat in her stomach like an indigestible boulder.

"There is no possibility of reconciliation?"

"No."

The word left her mouth quickly, and her cheeks colored.

Perhaps she was being foolish. Remus had alluded to as much in their last lesson. He had argued that it was pointless to rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron when Spinner's End sat empty during the school term. Arguments had been made that her decision had been too hasty and rushed, and that perhaps she would feel differently later.

Six months had passed, and she felt no different.

"What will you do now?"

Louisa had asked the same of her.

The world lay before her feet, and for the first time, Charlie was unsure of where to place them.

With her stinted, disabled magic she was useless in any field she had gathered NEWT level courses for in her time at Hogwarts. Other positions were barred to her as a former Death Eater. Too few wanted to associate themselves with the losing side of the war.

"I took the liberty and looked through your career advisement sessions with Horace."

Dumbledore fished a large envelope from the pocket of his robes and deposited it on the table before them.

"You did quite well in your coursework, but I believe the obscurus had already begun to fester. Your NEWT results were admirable, but not excellent. Positions that you were interested in upon graduation," Dumbledore opened the folder and looked at a large piece of yellowed parchment, "Mostly relative to potion-making and the possibility of reopening your father's apothecary."

"I don't want anything to do with potions."

The smile which crossed the headmaster's face was a sad one, "I understand. In addition to retrieving this file from our archives, I spoke with both Remus and a member of the Order."

Charlie raised a brow.

"Your criminal history will block you from prestigious positions in any fields. However, should you continue to show improvement in your studies with Remus, Alastor is willing to offer you a position with the Ministry, under the condition you continue to work for the Order."

Her eyes narrowed, "Continue to work for the Order? I've never worked for the Order."

"You'll be inducted, of course."

As her mouth opened to begin arguing, the headmaster raised a hand.

"We have done an injustice to you. One that I intend to take responsibility for. It is an open offer, though there is a timeframe in mind, and it comes with stipulations. Please allow me to finish before you insist on declining kind Alastor's offer."

Alastor Moody was anything but kind, she thought, recalling Evan's sprawled body on the Ministry of Magic's lobby floor.

"You will be required to pass examinations and licensing for the position, to take place in six months' time. After which, the Order of the Phoenix will induct you as a member should Voldemort ever return. If my presumptions are correct and he does return, you will spy for the Order among the Death Eaters."

Charlie blinked, "Spy for the Order? You just said your intentions were to keep me from the Dark Lord, not send me running back to his side."

Dumbledore smiled, "You and I both know, Ms. Fraser, that your danger in that regard has passed."

Her eyes narrowed, "It could come back."

"Doubtful, I find. Alastor has assured me that your training will include heavy lessons in Legilimency and Occlumency. You will learn to disassociate from any actions you partake in."

Leaning back in the cracked vinyl bench, Charlie stared at her headmaster. He sat, smiling innocently, his hands still clutched to the career advisory notice Slughorn had written after shouting at her for failing to make up her mind prior to graduation. In truth, by that meeting, her future had already been written to parchment. Walburga had seen to that.

There were no career options available to her, other than perhaps investing the remnants of her inheritance – which had only shrunk over the years – into reopening her father's apothecary. But in the last few months, she had realized that opening the apothecary would simply provide Snape with excuses to come there. Malcolm Fraser's apothecary had been known for carrying the most premium of ingredients, and while Snape was unlikely to purchase those for Hogwarts' stores, he was increasingly likely to purchase them for his own.

Other career options thrown about by Louisa had included becoming a greeter at St. Mungo's, an Obliviator – which despite its ominous title really did not require even NEWT level coursework -, or a librarian. Barnaby Blott still broke out in hives each time he saw her in the shop, his eyes glued to her forearm as though her Dark Mark at any moment was likely to leap from her skin and bite him.

"Well, what is it, then?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more, "Alastor has secured a position for you as a Hit Witch."

Charlie was familiar enough with those.

Hit wizards had been the ones to arrest Sirius in the streets of London.

Members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and controlled by the Head of the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic, they were trained to arrest and secure highly dangerous criminals. Hit wizards were not aurors – they were not required to have high NEWT scores and did no specialized tasks – but rather the combative fighting force of the Magical Law Enforcement department.

"I'm not enough of a duelist to be a hit witch, professor."

"We are in disagreement, then. I recall your days in dueling club at Hogwarts, Ms. Fraser. You showed extensive promise. Severus himself discussed with the Order quite often how talented you had become."

"In injuring, maiming, and permanently disfiguring aurors and Order members."

"You'll find there is likely to be little difference."

Charlie's mouth pursed, "When would I have to give him an answer by?"

"You'll be receiving a formal offer by post."

It would have been a lie, Charlie thought quietly, to say she was disinterested. Hit wizards and witches were rarely home and traveled often. It would limit the possibilities of bumping in Severus in London significantly. The pay, as she recalled from Sirius, was quite good. Though it did not come with the same benefits package as an auror, Charlie would never be desperate for money with what was left of her inheritance. She could work and live quite comfortably.

However, the position proposed its own hindrances.

There would be difficulty in explaining it to others in her former circle, and therefore, alienate her from them further.

"You're concerned about the appearances of it, I presume."

Her eyes lifted to meet the headmaster's smiling face, "Of course I am."

"May I propose a suggestion?"

"Permission has never been your strong suit."

Dumbledore laughed quietly, "I'm afraid you are correct in that regard. Alastor and I were both in agreement that this would be difficult to explain to some of your friends. They could see this as a betrayal and endanger your life should the time come when Voldemort returns."

Charlie nodded curtly, "They would."

"It was Alastor's suggestion that you take the same position as Severus. Severus is willing to support this background and advise that it was he who suggested you align yourself closely with the Ministry – and Order members – to be more useful to Voldemort if he returns."

For a moment, Charlie wanted to rise and walk from the table.

She did not want Severus positioning himself of any importance in her future.

Though, she thought, it would be moronic to turn down such an offer.

If her lessons continued improving with Remus, she could be in an acceptable position to begin training in the next six months. It would require more work outside of her typical lesson hours. She would likely need to ask Louisa for assistance. The job would be simple. Charlie doubted it would be any more difficult than the raids she had taken part in as a Death Eater. If anything, she might have an upper hand with her knowledge dark magic.

However, linking herself to Severus in such a way complicated the situation further. It would grow confusing, then, to divorce him but later rely on him for an explanation.

Charlie frowned, "I couldn't divorce him, then, could I?"

"It could make our reasoning look suspicious, I'm afraid."

It would.

Asking Severus to supply an explanation for his ex-wife's sudden interest in the Ministry of Magic – and potentially the Order – without a lengthy amount of time to theoretically supply her with such an idea would be incredibly suspicious. Bellatrix, for one, would never have bought it, and she was perhaps the only Death Eater Charlie truly worried about. Bella had always been able to see straight through her.

Severus would know that.

Snape had dragged out signing her attorney's paperwork because an opportunity lay before him. She had been his meal ticket with the Dark Lord; the reason he had gained such momentum in rising in rank amidst the Death Eaters had been his 'valuable' information.

_Something valuable._

Charlie flinched at the words.

"Would I have to live at Spinner's End?"

"I don't see why you would need to. Most of Severus's friends, from my understanding, do not appreciate his choice of residence."

That was certainly an understatement.

She had heard Lucius refer to Snape's house as a 'shit hole' on several occasions, and Lucius was not one to often drop to such crude terms.

"I think a separate living space would be simple enough to provide explanation for, as long as it appeared as though Severus was welcome there."

"Photographs and personal effects, then."

Her voice was flat.

"That would be appropriate."

They sat in silence as the barmaid stopped and refilled their empty teacups. Dumbledore hummed a noise of appreciation as he took the steaming cup in his hands.

"Fine. I'll do it."

There were more benefits to her than there were disadvantages. It would supply her with an easy enough excuse to avoid Snape and provided something to do that would include a healthy supplementary income to her inheritance. If the Dark Lord returned, he would not find it suspicious that she was spending so much time with Order members. In fact, he would likely be appreciative of it. If he were capable of such thoughts, he might think it thoughtful.

The Order would protect her if he didn't.

"But I have my own condition."

"I presumed that you would," Dumbledore folded his hands together upon the pub table.

"I do not want to talk to him – Snape – unless expressly necessary. You will handle everything else."

Dumbledore's expression changed.

For a brief moment, it almost appeared sad.

"You can ask him to send me a box of his personal effects, whatever they are, to make my new home look as though he stays there. But he isn't welcome there. If it is a requirement to uphold our ruse, he can write me letters, but I won't read them. If he wants to stay there and see friends there so it appears we are living together, it will be while I am away."

Charlie recalled Snape's very own words.

_When I return home from Hogwarts, I expect to see no inclination that you lived in this house. _

_This is not a marriage that will develop beyond our arrangement._

_There will be no children. There will be no marital relations. I have no expectation of this from you._

"I expect to see no sign of him having been there. It will never develop beyond this point. It will be a marriage on parchment only, with no further stipulations."

Dumbledore's eyes searched her own.

"Is that truly what you wish?"

"Yes, it is."

Her fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs. They trembled with the effort.

"Then we are in agreement. I will write to Alastor to request he send you a formal offer."

* * *

Chapter Twenty one is done! Moving forward, I'm going to try to post expected update dates on my profile. I am also working on a second fic that is currently just going to be a one-shot until this story is complete (if I can restrain myself) involving an OC/Charlie Weasley pairing. After several messages asking for one, I am trying to see if it is possible for me to write a prequel to TPMW.

**House Cup**

I am seriously procrastinating at this and would like your thoughts. Since about a year has passed in the story, should we start a new round of House Cup or continue this one through the end? I would love to hear your opinions while I go through all the reviews to recount House Points.

In the mean time... Bring your House to Glory! 5 Points for every review that mentions your House name!


	22. Chapter 22

Well, I've procrastinated on the House Cup enough. I believe we should see an update next weekend with new numbers. You all have spoken - we will continue this House Cup through the very end. For future updates and expected posting dates, please take a look at my profile. I will be updating it with preliminary dates for the next chapter. You can also follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Reddit, if that tickles your fancy.

Please enjoy Chapter 22!

* * *

Louisa propped four-inch heels onto Charlie's coffee table with a grunt of effort.

"How do you wear those to work?"

"I've charmed them."

Charlie snorted into her half-filled wine glass, reaching for another square of cheese.

"It's come along," Louisa glanced to the newly delivered furniture, "It looks like you."

It had taken several weeks for her to find the flat after accepting Alastor Moody's offer.

Of appropriate size and location, it had fallen to neglect in its years of vacancy. Previously owned by a wizarding couple – whom Charlie knew only by name – that had relocated to the continent during the war, it had stood empty for nearly a decade. Cobwebs had grown in the corners, and Charlie had been pleased to secure the place for a reasonable price.

However, she had continued to live in the Leaky Cauldron for several months.

Charlie did not have the first idea of what to do with it. Her magic, though improving in each lesson with Remus, was still hazardous. She did not want to wave her wand at the walls of her newly purchased home, nor did she have any inclination to do things the 'muggle way'.

Snape's home had come with its threadbare furniture and cracked teapot. Walburga had taken care of the arrangements to their home before Regulus and Charlie had even walked down the altar. She did not have any inclination whatsoever as to where to begin or how to do so.

In the end, it had been Louisa to take hold of the situation.

She had arrived with her house-elf to begin the lengthy process of sanitizing Charlie's house. It had accumulated several boggarts – to which Louisa's solution had been to simply throw them out – and the window treatments had been infested with doxies.

Doxicide had taken care of the little beasts, and Louisa's house elf had scrubbed as though it was her favorite past time.

Charlie thought it likely was.

It had been Louisa who had commanded Charlie to pick out furniture in a thick catalog, and evidently selected her own accompanying pieces, for Charlotte did not recall choosing fur throw blankets to toss across the cognac leather sofa she had pointed out, nor the thick marble-topped coffee table. Louisa had chosen the wall colors – a rich, emerald green that softened in shades of mint throughout the house and paired nicely with the exposed brick walls which had been pre-existing – and it had been Louisa to select the thick high-pile rug that felt like clouds beneath their feet.

"It looks like a blended version of me and you," Charlie corrected her, chewing quietly.

"Because I plan to stay here on nights I'm too drunk to call for the Knight Bus."

Charlie's eyes rolled, "That will be the day, Lou."

"It's entirely plausible. My mother is arranging another meeting with an eligible bachelor."

"Another one?"

Louisa's mouth pursed, "She doesn't understand."

Evan and Louisa's mother had never accepted that Louisa had not been the first of their year to marry. After exclusively dating Augustus Rookwood throughout their time at Hogwarts and the years after graduation, it had appeared for all intents and purposes that eventually the two would marry.

Until Augustus had taken the coward's route.

"Are they at least good looking?" she asked hopefully.

"They're ancient, Charlie."

Charlie took a sip of her wine, "Then why not just go back to Augustus?"

"My father would never allow that."

The Rosiers, despite their retirement to France, still held expectations of their daughter. They were not unlike any other pureblood parents. The Rosiers were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and their name would die with Louisa, as others had died in the war. They would not want their daughter to marry a man seen as a coward and blood-traitor.

"Maybe this one won't be so bad. What's his name?"

"He was one of Evan's friends, so at least our age – Avery."

Charlie paused, "Dominick Avery?"

Louisa shrugged, swirling her glass of wine, "I didn't pay attention to Evan's friends."

"He was a Death Eater."

"They were all probably Death Eaters, Charlie."

"No, I mean that I know him," she cut off Louisa's exasperated reply, "He's nice. Good-looking."

A single brow rose on her friend's face, "Explain."

Charlie laughed as she hurried to reassure her. Dom had, in fact, been Evan's friend at Hogwarts though with the pair being older than their year and their interest in boys had only truly bloomed after Evan – and Dominick – had graduated.

"He was a Death Eater. I was partnered with him a few times. He has younger sisters, a few years behind us. Two, I think."

"You said he was good-looking, Charlie. I need to know if he's your kind of good-looking or mine."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're married to Snape."

"Snape is not ugly, Lou."

Louisa snorted into her wineglass, "Maybe not to _you_."

After supplying a length description of Dominick Avery's appearance, personality, and NEWT scores, Louisa appeared satisfied.

"Maybe I won't drink myself into oblivion this weekend after all."

The blonde's eyes shifted to look at Charlie and narrowed.

Between the quick renovation, move, and her lengthened lessons, Charlie realized that their interactions of late had been more of a business arrangement than friendly terms. Louisa, who had never asked for an explanation for her separation, had also not asked for one when Charlie had told her she would be withdrawing her divorce complaint from the Ministry.

However, the leniency on her curiosity was likely wearing thin, and from the quick sip she gathered from her glass, Charlie doubted it would last even a few more minutes.

"I'd like to have a straightforward conversation," she began, and Charlie's stomach knotted with dread.

Nearly three months ago, Dumbledore had said similar words.

"I'm not leaving him because I can't," Charlie cut her off quickly.

Louisa waited patiently, her long nails tapping the nearly empty glass in her hand.

It had taken several weeks for Charlie to accumulate a good enough reason that would satisfy Louisa. Though she did not particularly like lying to her friend, Charlie could never forget that Louisa was fundamentally a stereotypical pureblood. She did not have qualms about using phrases such as 'mudblood' in public, and she specifically frequented only shops owned by other purebloods or at least half-bloods. When the stationary shop in Diagon Alley had changed ownership to a kind-faced muggleborn wizard, Louisa had not hesitated to change her patronage.

At times, Charlie questioned whether Louisa managed to treat her muggleborn patients in the same fashion in which she treated her pureblooded ones.

She doubted it.

"I can't have a third husband, Lou. No one would bother taking me at this point."

The blonde's lips pursed, "Plenty of them would."

"I've had two marriages that have resulted in no children. I probably can't have them. No pureblooded mother with a right mind will let her son marry a barren witch, no matter what family I come from."

Silence fell between the pair.

Charlie knew that even Louisa would have difficulty arguing her way out of her reasoning. Louisa, who had lost Augustus because he had taken the coward's way out of his conviction in blaming the Imperius Curse for his actions during the war, would see that Charlie's excuse was built on a solid, indestructible foundation.

"You can have children, Charlie," she said instead, "I ran those tests. It's possible."

"No one is going to touch me, Lou."

Louisa finished off her glass of wine, "Is that what you want, though? Will you be happy?"

_Happy_.

Charlie doubted there was anything at this point, short of divine intervention, that would make her happy.

"We've agreed to a separation," she lied, "Until things calm down. It could change."

"Separations can last years, Charlie," Louisa began carefully, "Unlike Severus, you have a biological clock that determines how long you can have children. Even magic can't change it. Have you considered that?"

"I'm only twenty-three, Lou," Charlie forced a laugh, "I've got a decade."

"From your examination results, that's cutting it close."

Louisa crossed her ankles on the coffee table and stared out the window. The blinking skyline of London looked back at them, winking signs advertising late night coffee shops and cafes cut across the rainy summer night.

Charlie had come to the conclusion over the last eight months that her opportunities for having a family had been broken the moment she trespassed into Snape's mind.

Her lie was not entirely untruthful. At twenty-three years old, she was already considered old in the wizarding post-war world. Their school friends had already married and had children. Some, even younger than Charlie, had already had multiple. The war had brought couples together faster, their desire to bring a new life into the world even stronger. No pureblooded – or even half-blooded - wizard wanted to leave the world without the opportunity to continue his bloodline. The only ones left were those who had been made widowers during the war or cast offs that no one else had wanted.

Dominick Avery's wife had been accidentally killed in a raid on Diagon Alley.

No one else had wanted Snape.

"Snape wants me to spy on the Ministry," Charlie reminded her, "I have to focus on that for now."

Louisa's eyes rolled, "If the Dark Lord comes back."

The blonde had not been fond of Charlie's reasoning for taking the job at the Ministry of Magic.

Lou had vehemently reminded her that she could secure her a job as a greeter at St. Mungo's if she was simply desperate for something to do, and when that had not worked, she had questioned whether Charlie should be buying a house or simply moving in with her.

Ultimately, Charlie had opted for her secondary excuse – that it was a means to avoid Snape until she was ready to move forward. Only due to their friendship had Louisa's questions ceased. It was not like Lou to continue questioning Charlie or her decisions. For as much as she was snobbish and at times even cruel, Lou had been the most loyal friend Charlie had ever had. She ultimately trusted every decision the dark-haired witch made.

Louisa, despite her loyalties, would never have used her as a pawn.

"I've agreed to let you take this job," the blonde began with a smile, "On the condition that I am in charge of any healing you require. Ministry healers botch it half the time, and I'll not be cleaning up their messes."

Charlie grinned, "They said the job came with a permanent bed at St. Mungo's."

"That isn't funny."

Even Remus had been surprised she had accepted the offer. He had taken instruction from Dumbledore on what areas she would need to show the largest amounts of improvement in, but most of the magic required of a hit witch or wizard was straightforward dueling. Charlie had always been relatively talented in that respect. After another two months of grueling lessons and meeting three times a week – for which Charlie had insisted she pay him for – she had come along nicely. But his reservations about the position had been voiced frequently.

_This is a job for people with a death wish, Charlie._

Her contract with the Ministry had involved an agreement when written on parchment, was as thick as her middle finger. It had listed the various things for which she could not find the Ministry responsible for – including loss of limb – but also listed a fat pension should she become too maimed or disfigured to complete necessary job requirements.

It had certainly been better than anything the Dark Lord had offered her.

What pension had she received for her service to him?

"Hit wizards arrested Sirius, didn't they?"

Charlie made a quiet noise of agreement, her eyes avoiding Lou's carefully assessing gaze.

"How many of them died, do you remember?"

None of them, Charlie wanted to tell her.

She had been there, listening in the alleyway as he shouted obscenities at the aurors – once his friends – as they hurled curses at him. By the time the squad of hit wizards had arrived, he had been exhausted. Charlie had heard his screamed hexes grow dimmer, his voice catching on syllables.

Instead, she shrugged.

Louisa would never have understood why she ran to him that day. She had never approved of the relationship between Sirius and Charlie. When they had broken it off, she had been more than delighted to include Regulus in everything she had shunned Sirius from. Not that Sirius would have wanted to do any of the things Regulus had agreed to.

"I'm just telling you to be careful, Charlie."

_Dumbledore knew what he was doing when he offered you this job._

Remus's words echoed between her ears as she saw Louisa out, the witch tripping over her stilettos as she raised her wand for the Knight Bus. Charlie waited until the blonde had settled in a seat before blowing her a kiss and closing the front door.

Charlie's feet padded against the hardwood floors as she scooped up wineglasses and empty plates to deposit in the kitchen. She would deal with them in the morning, or perhaps finally indulge Louisa enough to find a house elf.

_Mad-Eye didn't do this for you out of the goodness of his heart._

Sitting cross-legged on the high-pile rug, Charlie stared out at London with glazed eyes.

It had only partially concerned her that Remus was suspicious of Dumbledore's intentions. For as long as she could remember, Remus and the other Marauders had looked up to Dumbledore with the awe reserved for those who had diligently followed the tales describing his victory over Grindelwald. But if Remus was questioning Dumbledore, then there was something to question.

She reached across the rug to snag the neck of a half-emptied wine bottle and brought it to her lips.

_I can't imagine Mad-Eye made the recommendation for good reasons, Charlie._

Her lips twisted.

No, she did not doubt that Alastor had ill intentions towards her. From what she had heard from Severus, the auror had been strongly against Dumbledore's solution to her problem. Moody hadn't wanted Charlie to marry Snape or be involved in any capacity towards the Order.

It was strange of him, she thought, to allow her to join the Ministry of Magic.

With the training used by the hit wizards, she would become a better duelist than before. The training program for hit wizards lasted nearly a year. It was a third of the time required by aurors, but still extensive. She would learn how the Ministry tracked Death Eaters during the first war, and how they arranged for their arrests. It was information, that in the hands of a person with ill intentions, could be quite harmful to the Ministry of Magic, and therefore, the Order of the Phoenix. Moody had never thought she had any good intentions from the beginning, if Snape was to be believed.

If Charlie had learned anything from Severus and Sirius respectively, it was that Alastor Moody – while loyal to the Ministry – was Dumbledore's man. However, he held just as fierce a loyalty to those who worked with him in Magical Law Enforcement.

"What are you up to, Alastor?" Charlie hummed against the dark glass of her wine bottle.

Her thoughts carefully mapped out motives and means, racing through probable scenarios. Since the war, her mind had felt jumbled and too full. In the last eight months, she had begun to regain some clarity. There was no additional presence lurking about in her conscious to take up more space, to question her own thought process. She was alone once more.

There was no true benefit to having Charlie join the Hit Squad. She was not as talented as perhaps other, untraumatized candidates. No matter her reputation as a Death Eater, or after the war, there were plenty that would have disagreed with Moody's decision. While she carried moderate talent in dueling, she had been better at other things for the Dark Lord.

Charlie froze.

_You will learn to disassociate from any actions you partake in._

Surely, she thought, Dumbledore did not mean _any_ actions.

Possession was illegal.

But, as she recalled, the hit squad was authorized to perform illegal magic. They were not held to the same standard as aurors, or other members of magical law enforcement. Hit wizards and witches were the hit men paid by the Ministry. Arrests were to take place under any means necessary. Mad-Eye would likely be delighted to have found a witch capable of possession who could be used by the Ministry in the event the Dark Lord returned as Dumbledore had predicted.

An auror would be happy to have a witch in his pocket who could possess criminals to turn themselves in, divulge their locations, or even prevent them from committing crimes.

The hair on her arms began to rise.

It had never bothered Dumbledore that she had possessed people in the same way it had disturbed Remus. She could still recall the shocked expression on the werewolf's face when she had admitted her crime to him. The disgust and horror had been unrestrained.

Dumbledore had smiled.

As an obscurial, she had been a liability to the Order. If the Dark Lord could use an obscurial, whose magic was unrestrained and violent, it would have devastating effect on the wizarding – and muggle – world should he come back.

Possession was an entirely different beast.

In possession, she was an asset to them.

The wine bottle slipped from her fingers to roll across the hardwood floor, spilling burgundy liquid in its trail. She stared at the spreading zinfandel with widening eyes.

Charlie had thought herself capable of out-witting Dumbledore. She had believed, foolishly, that accepting this position only helped herself. It created a niche for her survival, placating both sides. Never had she thought it would create its own web of dangers.

Her heart hammered within her chest.

Of course, then, he had waited until she had successfully performed a new possession to provide her with such an offer. Now that the guise was up, they had known she was not going to stick around without a new purpose. Offering her a job, promising the protection of the Order, and making her valuable had seemed like a solution that satisfied both sides. In truth, it had been a new guise.

Mad-Eye did not want her for her dueling capabilities. There were dozens of wizards capable of vicious wand-waving who lacked morality. She was a single knut in a dozen for that. No, he wanted her for his own purposes. Charlie had learned possession in the company of Death Eaters. It was probably satisfying to think she knew enough about each of them to slip into their minds. How much information could she get for the Order if she could look through the eyes of, say, Bellatrix?

"Fuck."

The word echoed against the freshly painted emerald walls.

* * *

I honestly never cared much for Mad-Eye. I've always believed he was self serving to his own ideas and sense of morality, and that he teetered between his loyalty to the Ministry and that of the Order.

A few people have mentioned to me their dislike of our time jump. I don't expect many time jumps to take place in the story, but I've plot mapped this story to the heavens and I think we're going to see a few of them in the interest of staying true to my plot and the events that take place in the books. If this is absolutely unacceptable to you, I am not opposed to writing filler chapters but as I reader, I sometimes hate reading those. Please let me know your thoughts in the review section, or to message me directly!

**House Cup**

Bring your House to Glory! Drop your House name in the review section for five points to your House. Who will win the Cup?


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-three is here!

* * *

Charlie's jaw worked as she watched Remus move through her kitchen with an air of familiarity that few others could claim. His fingers danced before her tea cupboard before decisively seizing a blend she kept just for him. Steady hands worked to make tea from loose leaves and a whistling kettle, while Charlie attempted to relax her jaw enough to open her mouth.

For days, she had contemplated asking Remus what his thoughts were about Moody.

She knew that Remus had never held much respect for the auror.

Perhaps that wasn't the best terminology for it.

Remus saw beyond the image projected of Moody.

Alastor was not a Dumbledore supporter. Despite joining the Order of the Phoenix - which Dumbledore had founded - the auror was not particularly fond of Dumbledore.

Charlie was just two weeks into her training with the Hit Department within Magical Law Enforcement, and she could see evidence of it everywhere.

Within her group of recruits – which was albeit small – over half of them had worked for the Dark Lord. Whereas others in the Order of the Phoenix would frown upon hiring those who had explicitly provided information to Death Eaters that had resulted in the torture, death, or disappearance of Order members, this apparently did not phase Moody. After all, he was head of the Department.

At times, she wondered if he knew that the mousy-faced witch who had been paired with Emmeline Vance had been paid by Rabastan to stalk the Longbottoms.

Pressing her tongue against the roof of her suddenly dry mouth, Charlie watched Remus slip a long pour of milk into his cup.

"Do you think Dumbledore trusts Moody?"

She watched the werewolf raise a brow as he dropped a sugar cube into the steaming liquid.

"Trusts him? In what capacity?"

Charlotte's lips pursed, "If Dumbledore made a promise, could Moody make him break it?"

Remus took a swallow of his tea, made a face, and reached for the sugar again. His face filtered through several expressions before they turned back to her, his tea properly sugared.

"It would depend on the promise."

A scowl fixed itself on her face.

"Are we going to keep prancing around an issue? Or have it out?"

Patiently, Remus leaned against the counter and Charlie noticed again that he looked thinner.

"There are a lot of people at the Ministry, people who worked for Death Eaters."

Remus kept his face affixed with attention, but she caught a small incline to his brow line.

"It seems to me as though he doesn't mind it."

"Does he know?"

Charlie snorted, "I don't see how he wouldn't, honestly."

As the werewolf took a swallow of his tea, Charlie lifted herself to sit in front of him on the counter, crossing and uncrossing her ankles anxiously.

"So, perhaps your question isn't whether Albus trusts Alastor, but how dedicated Alastor is to the Order?"

Charlie bit the inside of her cheek, "I guess that's one way to say it."

Remus frowned, and Charlie watched his face filter through expressions.

She had come accustomed to each emotion crossing the wizard's face. After spending hours together each week in preparation for her examinations and assisting her with developing her still – at times – unreliable wand work, she doubted anyone spent as much time with her as Remus. Knowing that he flitted from job to job to maintain an air of caution with his condition, Charlie doubted that anyone spent more time with him than she did.

It had been Remus, after all, who had warned her about taking this position, she recalled.

"Truthfully," he blew out a held breath, "I suspect he sees some benefit to it."

Charlie raised a brow.

"Hear me out. We know that Albus believes that Voldemort will return," he cast a look at her when she flinched, "I believe it as well, as much as I'd like not to. I can see Alastor hiring known affiliates to Death Eaters as some kind of benefit."

"A benefit?"

Remus frowned, "No one would be better equipped to seek them out later, should the need arise."

"Is that why I work there?"

"I think the better question here is why you think he has you there."

Two weeks had passed, and Charlie had attempted to discern any malicious context to the head auror's assignments. However, he appeared to treat her like any other recruit. She was still given grueling amounts of reading to attend to. Every week they were given practical assignments to hunt an auror in London successfully. She had failed her first attempt and been somewhat successful in her second.

Every other recruit was given extensive lessons in both Legilimency and Occlumency. No additional attention was directed her way in lessons. If anything, Cian Dearborn – their instructor – seemed to grow increasingly irritated by her weak attempts at discerning what the mousy witch had eaten for breakfast.

"I don't have any proof," she answered finally, her voice quiet.

"You don't need any with me. Tell me what your instincts say."

Remus did not require the explanations Severus had always demanded. He did not require proof in the way her husband had.

_He was afforded opportunities in this life that we were not given. He was never forced to cast away his morals for the sake of his own survival. He was never asked to do as we were._

Snape's voice rang in her ears as she swallowed thickly.

"I think that he hopes I get better so that I'm useful."

Remus did not allow her to skirt around the issue, "In what way?"

"In ways that others cannot be useful to him."

"Possession, then."

She wondered how much restraint he had used to prevent his tone from souring the word.

"I think you are safe in that assumption. It's why I cautioned you about taking this job to begin with."

"He doesn't treat me any different, though," she argued weakly.

"But there isn't any need for it now, is there?"

Charlie frowned.

"The Ministry allowed aurors special liberties during the war, Charlie. They were permitted to do things for the situation at hand that otherwise would not have been permitted. Unforgiveables, for instance, are widely frowned upon. However, in the war they were used by both sides."

It was true, she recalled.

During her school years, everything she had learned about Unforgiveables had cemented their illegality across the wizarding world. Special circumstances had allotted for them throughout history. In Grindelwald's war, they had become relatively common.

However, she did not recall a single auror giving a debriefing where he or she mentioned using an Unforgiveable. It seemed a bit strange to her, she could admit, when they had been used without much thought among the ranks of Death Eaters.

"It would make sense that he's recruited you now, Charlie," Remus began carefully, "Because there is an ability to grow a sense of loyalty towards the Ministry for you. Not to say that Alastor explicitly supports the Minister – or the Ministry for that matter – but he does believe in an ideology that there is such thing as a greater good."

The Greater Good.

It had been ideology of Grindelwald's, she recalled from Professor Binn and his droning lectures.

"Now, he has time to build your loyalty to his cause. He wants a just and equal wizarding world that is strictly protected from muggle view. It is one of his strongest opinions – his support of the Statute of Secrecy. Grindelwald threatened that, and so did Voldemort. If Albus threatens it, Alastor wouldn't hesitate to change sides to a cause that supported his own beliefs."

"So, he doesn't care about loyalty to Dumbledore."

Remus snorted, "No. He wants his own loyalty. It was the same for James and Sirius in that department. Alastor wants his interests protected."

"Then how am I a benefit at all? If he isn't going to use me to hunt down criminals now, and is just letting me hang out in his pocket for a rainy day, then why bother with this effort?"

His arms crossed, "Did you ever spend a day as a Death Eater, not being a Death Eater?"

"No," she snorted.

"You have to learn how to work within his ranks. He has put just enough investment in you. You're a hit witch. It's a position that no one is lining up for. It is incredibly dangerous, and there isn't the demand that there was for it two or three years ago. All the extremely dangerous criminals we knew of in the war are accounted for, for the most part."

Remus took a swallow of his now tepid tea, "He's grooming you for the possibility that when Voldemort returns, that you'll be trained enough to be useful. You can't do any possessions now. We've been shown that. Years will pass before you'll do another successful one, I think."

Charlie bit her cheek once more.

She knew that Remus loosely knew the circumstances of her and Snape separating. However, she had remained tight lipped. Severus had been the one to tell them, she supposed, or perhaps Dumbledore. Most of the Order knew now, she recalled, as they were integrated into the Ministry in one way or another and would have heard that she had applied to return to her maiden name. Gossip needed no owls or paper planes to travel within the Ministry of Magic, she had found.

"You've been assigned to Cian Dearborn, haven't you?"

"Unfortunately," her voice was a mumble.

The auror had voiced his distaste for his assignment to her from the beginning. He was a few years older than her – and Remus, for that matter – but was relatively respected within the department. In addition to being their lead instructor in Occlumency and Legilimency, he was also largely responsible for their practical examinations.

All five within her training class had been assigned an auror to report to during their training. It would be a long assignment, but Moody told them he didn't plan on needing to replace any of them. Only two hit wizards stayed on after the war. Charlie wasn't sure if it was due to boredom or untimely retirements, but she saw them oftentimes napping in their break room without much interest in the work of aurors buzzing about on the department floor.

Charlie had assumed Moody had assigned Dearborn to her because he was especially talented in mental magic – Occlumency and Legilimency. Without Severus, she was without a tutor. She suspected Mad-Eye had specifically chosen the auror to target her larger need in the subjects.

"Cian Dearborn's brother was Caradoc Dearborn. I'm sure you've heard of him."

She had.

Caradoc Dearborn had been a renowned auror. Sirius had studied under him in the auror department and had raved about him before graduation. He was in line to succeed Moody, should he ever retire, and had been wildly respected.

The Dark Lord had known this, as well.

Charlie didn't know who had killed him. It had been suddenly announced, as they chortled about some muggle-born wizard who had wandered into Knockturn Alley. Oftentimes, she had chosen to tune out of such conversations. She didn't want to know about how a boy, freshly graduated from Hogwarts, had been tortured to the brink of psychosis for simply making a wrong turn. Perhaps it had been Rabastan, she thought, who had killed Caradoc. At the time, he had been steadily rising through the ranks as one of the most accomplished duelists within their rank.

She knew they had never found his body.

"Cian is in the Order. Caradoc brought him in. At the time, he was just a new auror. Now, he's extensively practiced Legilimency with the hope he will be able to crack the mind of a Death Eater who knows where his brother's body is."

"I wouldn't be able to help with that," she said quickly, "I didn't know much about it."

Remus shrugged, "I think Alastor sees you – a reformed Death Eater, for lack of a better word – and sees Cian, who has been consumed for years in discovering what happened to Caradoc. Cian is probably just as talented as Severus in Legilimency. I don't think Alastor picked him as a tutor for you, specifically, Charlie."

The wizard turned away from her, refreshing his now cool cup of tea.

"I think it's more likely that he's assigned him to you to keep an eye on you."

"Like a spy?"

That didn't seem as likely to her. It had been Dumbledore, after all, who had approached her to join the Order. Dumbledore had claimed responsibility for having Mad-Eye find her a job. If he had doubted her intentions, Charlie didn't see why the effort had been made on her behalf.

"Does Snape know, about the job?"

Charlie made a face, "I imagine Dumbledore told him."

"I wouldn't count on that."

In the months that had followed, Severus hadn't made any effort to contact her.

On one hand, it had brought a sense of relief. For years, Charlie had counted on Severus to be her most trusted confidant. She doubted that anyone knew her as extensively as he did. Charlie's friendship with Louisa had slowly transformed from their years in the Slytherin girls' dormitory. They were no longer capable of freely talking between one another. Whether it was Charlie's contribution to Evan's death, or Louisa's ignorance in healing so early in her career, Charlie didn't know. There was a heaviness to their friendship now. One that had never weighed on her relationship with Snape.

But at times, she found herself laying in bed waiting for the soft tapping of his owl on her bedroom window. She wondered how he had spent the summer. Spinner's End was terribly lonely, she recalled. At times, she would catch herself reaching for a second plate at suppertime or boiling too much water for tea. Each time, she would painstakingly replace the plate, and watch the water swish about in the kettle. Each time, it would remind her of how absolutely alone she was.

"I saw him, a few days ago, in Diagon Alley. He's getting ready for the school year, I imagine."

Charlie felt her jaw tighten, "Oh?"

"They go back in a few days, right? He was in the apothecary. It sounded like he was placing the Hogwarts' stores order."

"He's probably working himself into exhaustion," she began sharply, but stopped herself.

What did she care, if the dark-haired wizard spent all night reviewing lesson plans? What concern of it was hers, should he be drinking cold tea and living off sandwiches as he readjusted his syllabuses to become more and more complicated?

It wasn't.

"It's been months, Charlie."

Nine, she recalled.

"It was years," she reminded him, "Years that he lied to me."

"Sometimes, Charlie, people do things they spend the rest of their lives regretting."

At times, Charlie didn't doubt that Severus had regretted his choices. He had spent too much time trying to piece together the remnants of her for her to doubt it. She had never been his responsibility, despite what Dumbledore had told him. They had both done things in the war they had been ashamed of.

In the last nine of months, the sting of his betrayal had festered to a deep ache. On the surface, it had healed. Charlie could forgive him for following Dumbledore's instruction to marry her and take responsibility for his actions.

"He regretted it, Remus," she replied finally, "But I don't know if I can forgive him for doing it in the first place."

On one hand, Charlie could count the relationships she had which had ultimately benefitted no one but had been forged organically. Louisa, Wilhemina, Remus, Sirius, and perhaps for a time, Severus.

Walburga Black had wanted the Fraser girl to marry one of her sons. She had never particularly cared which of them. For a time, she had supported Charlie and Sirius. But as Sirius grew more and more independent from her and the Black family values she had cherished, her support had withdrawn. Suddenly, it had been Regulus. Regulus, who had always been like Charlie's brother.

Regulus had married Charlie to get away from his mother, and perhaps to help Charlie get away from Walburga as well. But their marriage had been founded on a relationship that had always been more like siblings than anything romantic. They had maintained separate bedrooms. They had discussed children, though no real effort had been made to have them. Their arguments had always been centered around Sirius – that Charlie would leave him for Sirius, that she was plotting with Sirius.

"What are you thinking about?"

His words interrupted her thoughts, and Charlie quickly centered herself back to the counter where she sat, before the werewolf that smiled easily at her.

"Regulus," she answered softly.

"We don't talk about him often," Remus heaved himself onto the counter opposite of her, cradling his teacup within his large hands, "Why don't we?"

Charlie's lips pulled into a smile, "The Marauders hated Regulus."

Remus barked out a laugh, "Hardly. He was Padfoot's little brother. We were duty-bound to dislike him, but we never hated him. Well," the werewolf caught his tongue, "Perhaps for a time, we didn't."

"I didn't know what he had done. I remember the day he left, he said he had something important to do for the war. I didn't think much of it, to be honest. I was having the wives over for brunch. He gave me a hug before he left, and then he never came home."

_Goodbye, Charlie-bell._

"He never said goodbye. It was kind of our thing, the whole time we grew up. The last thing my parents ever said to me was goodbye, when they dropped me off for school. Reggie and I never said 'goodbye'."

"Sirius had mentioned that."

"He said goodbye that day, and I didn't even notice. Bibsy was trying to get these napkins in some silly pattern I had seen in Witch Weekly, and I was worried they wouldn't come out right. _Napkins_."

She crossed her arms, "And for a few days, I didn't suspect anything was wrong. It was kind of normal for him to be gone for several days. We weren't really a normal married couple. We didn't sleep in the same bed, we had different schedules. Honestly, I don't think I even noticed how long it had been until Severus showed up."

"Snape?"

A dry laugh left her mouth, "I thought it had been so sweet, that he would come to check in on me. But he told me that Regulus had been caught, and I figured he had meant the Ministry. So, I went to go write Orion, and ask him for his help. But Severus said it had been the Dark Lord. That Reg had betrayed the Dark Lord."

Her breath left her lips in a soft stream, "I kind of resented him sometimes, Reg. He seemed to get it all without much effort. Everything he wanted. Girls, money, friends. He never had any problems, with any of it. It didn't make sense to me, what Snape had said. I just brushed him off."

They had come only days later.

"I know now that it was Lucius who pressured Regulus to marry me. That in turn, Regulus had demanded his mother withhold my inheritance unless I married him. I had always known that Regulus attempted to interfere in my relationship with Sirius. I just had never understood why he was suddenly so interested in us being together."

Charlie hugged her chest, "I know that when we were married, Severus and Lucius suggested Regulus bring me to Death Eater meetings, and that he refused. I like to think he refused because he cared about me. But eventually their suggestions turned into demands, and at some point, Regulus realized they wanted me to become a Death Eater."

"He wrote to Sirius around that time, I believe."

Charlie blinked, "What?"

"Yes, he wrote him a letter. Had it sent to the Ministry. He told Sirius that you were in danger, and Sirius asked the Order to arrange patrols for your neighborhood. But Moody wouldn't agree to it, and Albus didn't see how you would be in danger. Sirius asked James and I to help him. We would sit at that park all night, watching your house."

Remus cleared a noise from his throat, "We were there the night they came."

The night they had descended on her house, Charlie had been sitting at the fireplace, wondering why Orion and Walburga hadn't answered any of her owls. She had wondered if she should just go to the house, but worried that if she left, she would miss Regulus coming home.

Then, suddenly, fire had come through the windows.

"Sirius tried to go to you. There was a lot of screaming."

Bibsy.

She could recall the haunting, shrill screams of her house-elf, trapped somewhere in the house as it was engulfed in the fiendfyre inferno. Charlie had crawled on the floor, shrieking for her as she clawed her way through high-pile carpets to the door, her eyes streaming from the smoke, her skin blistering from the heat.

It had taken weeks for the burns to her hands and knees to heal.

"James wouldn't let go of him. There were so many of them, Charlie. They blocked the whole street. I don't think I had ever seen so many Death Eaters in one place."

Charlie's eyes closed. She could see them still, blacking out the street as she crawled from the front door, choking on the cold air outside as her bloodied hands slipped on brick stairs. Their silver masks had stared down at her with empty, black eyes.

"Sirius bloodied James' nose and started running down the street, and I hexed him. We took him back to headquarters," Remus watched her carefully, "We would never have been able to do anything. James told Alastor and Albus, but they suggested there was nothing that could be done. You were probably already dead."

She remembered trembling in the cold, her clothing burnt to scraps as she was dragged down the sidewalk by two masked figures on her knees. Her throat had been too burnt to scream, but her eyes had streamed freely from the smoke. Somewhere in the night, Bibsy's screams still echoed through the night as she howled for her mistress.

Her eyes burned, "There was really nothing anyone could've done anyways, Remus."

Remus cleared his throat once more and took a large gulp of his tea, "Sirius thought you were dead. We had to stay with him for a while. James, Peter, and I all swapped nights with him."

During those weeks, Charlie imagined she was with Narcissa. It had been the Malfoys who had stepped forward to take her in. She had been so grateful to them. Now, she knew that Lucius had done so only so that they were tied to her success later. He had known from the beginning what they had planned for her. Narcissa had treated her kindly. They had been friends, of sorts, at Hogwarts. The platinum-haired witch had bandaged her hands and knees daily, had soothed her silenced sobs in the bathroom as she grieved the loss of Regulus.

"It was Emmeline Vance – you know her, she's still with the department – who saw you in London with Narcissa and Louisa three months later."

The pair watched each other from across the kitchen.

"How am I supposed to forgive him for that, Remus?"

Remus did not answer her.

She wondered how much of it had indirectly affected him, too. How many nights had he stayed with Sirius as his friend grieved for her? How much had her involvement with the Dark Lord caused him sleepless nights as the Order worked relentlessly against the Death Eaters?

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm not going to tell you to forgive him, Charlie. As someone who cares about you, I struggle with what he's done myself. But I know this - when Moody shows his true intentions, you will want Severus in your corner."

* * *

I think this is my longest chapter to date. This one was incredibly difficult to write, and there is a lot of information thrown in here. I'm sorry for the long wait between updates, but life happens. Between the loss of my beloved keyboard (Rest in Peace) and then the ensuing writer's block, it felt like this would NEVER get posted.

Anywho. I'd like to thank all of my wonderful reviewers. I don't really know how this happened. I'm not certain I will ever catch up with the House Cup because y'all are just blowing up my email with review notifications and I'm not sure I've ever felt such unadulterated excitement and joy. Thank you for each and every one of them. Whoever recommended my story on Reddit, I'd like to do a shout-out to you as well. Thank you for your continued support!

**House Cup!**

Bring your House to Glory!

Mention your Hogwarts House in the reviews and gain five points towards the House Cup.

Any reviews that mention your Pottermore Patronus will also get an extra five from 03.01.2020 - 04.01.2020!

(Mine is a Wild Rabbit)

I have decided after a pause to restart the House Cup for the 2020 Term. I am simply... overwhelmed by the amount of reviews and trying to catch up has clearly not gone very well in my favor. All reviews after 03.01.2020 will be counted towards the new term!


	24. Chapter 24

A very large shout out to all of my lovely reviewers. I can't believe it's been over a year since I started TPMW... Whoever coined #Snarlie, I'd love to give you credit as credit is due, but I truly do have the greatest readers. Your reviews are bringing SO much comfort to my otherwise hectic life right now.

* * *

At Hogwarts, Charlie had never given much thought to Care of Magical Creatures. Beyond her owl and an affinity for nifflers, she had never held much interest in the subject. The majority of it had been spent sneaking off during class to snog Sirius somewhere near the Quidditch Pitch while Professor Kettleburn attempted to retain what remained of his limbs.

Suddenly, she sorely wished she has spent more attention.

"GET. THEM. _OFF_!"

Everything had been going well.

She was on her first real graded assignment from the Ministry. Cian Dearborn and Emmeline Vance were in tow to observe, grade, and assist – if necessary - in the arrest of Alfred Gugle.

On paper, the wizard had seemed relatively harmless. Charlie had initially questioned why he was assigned to the hit department instead of an auror. The wizard was a rogue healer who was testing the abilities of Swooping Evil venom. He had been releasing them into muggle neighborhoods and had evaded auror capture twice before he was transferred onto Charlie's desk.

A few minutes of research had showed Charlie that Swooping Evils resembled something between a bat and a butterfly. They were pretty, even, with their bejeweled wings in shades of sapphire and emerald.

They were terribly beautiful, brain-hungry butterfly bats.

It had only taken a few hours for her to track Gugle to a village in Scotland. She had successfully evacuated the small village under the pretense of a gas leak and a few charms to keep them from returning. With an air of what Charlie would later argue was most certainly not arrogance, she had marched up to the stone house and knocked on the door, prepared to take the little healer man into custody without much effort at all.

Charlie would deny later that she had giggled.

Cian would later remind her that she had.

When the door opened, she began her long-winded required speech of rights by the Ministry of Magic and been met with a swarm of the aforementioned sapphire and emerald brain-hungry butterfly bats.

As Cian and Emmeline observed, Charlie had sprinted across the lawn in the opposite direction of her target, while a blood-curdling scream escaped her mouth. A few charms blasted in their general direction had been useless. The thick skin of the creatures appeared to just bounce them off.

"_HELP ME_!"

She screamed the word towards Cian, who had bent at the waist in chortling laughter as she circled the house for the second time.

"You've got this, Fraser!" he called back gleefully as Emmeline slowly shook her head.

Across the village, Charlie was aware there was a pond.

She was also aware that it was July, and the water would be mosquito-ridden.

Her year of training in the Hit department of the Magical Law Enforcement Department had not taught her much about magical creatures. But it had taught her Mad-Eye's favorite phrase.

_Constant Vigilance!_

Her legs turned to the general direction of the pond as she pumped her burning thighs forward and prepared to brace herself for the stinking water.

Most flying creatures, she reasoned, did not like water. She did not see how these creatures would be anything different. Perhaps if she was fortunate, there would be a proper number of algae in the stagnant pond that would rid any human-like smells off of her long enough for her to run back to the unassuming stone house and let her arrest the little bastard inside.

Her breath left her mouth in a silent scream as her body made impact with the pond water in an ungraceful belly-flop, which allowed the murky green water to fill her mouth.

Charlie felt confident in saying that this pond was adequately full of algae.

She allowed herself to stay submerged for several moments, her body convulsing in the lukewarm waters as she waited to see if the Swooping Evils would breach the surface.

As her lungs began to scream for air, she broke the surface to grab a gasp of air and found the above skies to be empty.

Somewhere, she thought she heard Cian scream like a small child.

Grinning, she sloshed through the reeds back to shore and began a quick sprint to her original target – the stone house. Upon reaching the yard, she watched Emmeline and Cian shift through the spells she, herself, had used as they shouted profanities.

"The pond," she shouted at them, watching green water drip from her hair, "Have a dip!"

The stone house seemed empty. A large metal bird cage had tipped over in the front room, and the kitchen was covered in carefully labelled vials of what Charlie assumed was venom from the beasties attempting to feast on Cian's brains. Not that they would find much there, honestly, she thought.

Alfred Gugle stared at her from behind thick-framed glasses, his small red mouth gaping in surprise as she stepped over the felled cage which had released the beasts on her.

"Alfred Gugle, you are under arrest. If you have any most of those -!" She pointed out the door, "I suggest you disclose this now, or I will hex you."

A vial slipped from the wizard's fingertips, "They're all gone," he squeaked.

"Very well," she took a deep breath, "I'm not reading you the rest of your rights. You'll get them at the Ministry, and I have pond scum in my teeth. Get over here."

Obediently, the wizard stepped over broken glass and held out his small, sweaty hand. She clasped the fluorescent purple cuff around his wrist and held to the other section as she felt the familiar pull at her belly.

She would lose some points for not allowing Cian and Emmeline to observe her arrest, but Gugle seemed like he wasn't the sort to squeak to anyone at Azkaban that she hadn't read him his rights. In all honesty, she recalled as she listened to her trench coat drip onto the Ministry floor, an auror had to do it before transferring him. The arrest here seemed more important, anyway.

Other Ministry employees stopped to stare as she led the squeaky-voiced wizard through the Ministry's lobby, her clothes drenched in fragrant, murky pond water. She did not care about the puddles she left in the elevator, or the way a frog-faced woman stared at her with an open mouth as she exited towards the Magical Law Enforcement Department.

This was her first successful assignment.

After turning in Gugle, she would be a full-fledged hit witch.

Tonight, she planned on celebrating with Remus. He had promised her a party, and for once, Charlie wasn't dreading company. There would be aurors there, and Order members. Molly had written to ask after her favorite flavor of cake.

Alastor was seated in the center of the department when she passed through the doors, the other aurors standing around with looks of eager anticipation. A quick glance around the room told her she had been the first to return out of the remaining three recruits from her class.

"Charlie Fraser, presenting Alfred Gugle for processing."

Mad-Eye grinned, "Get him to processing then, Fraser."

Charlie frog-marched the healer towards the processing desk, her grip unnecessarily tight on his wrist. She wondered if Emmeline and Cian had gotten out of the pond and returned back to the department. Hopefully, Cian wouldn't hold it against her later.

After signing a few pieces of paperwork, Charlie remained standing as the processing auror read Gugle the rights she had decided weren't pressing at the time of his arrest, and hesitantly turned back to face the rest of her department.

In a year, she had forged a few friendships within the ranks. Kingsley Shacklebolt had started their tradition of getting drinks every first and last Friday of the month. If Cian was not particularly displeased with her performance that week, he could be caught joining them with a few others from the department – Emmeline and Hestia Jones, another auror. If it wasn't terribly later, Arthur Weasley would stop by the Leaky Cauldron to grab a pint before going home to Molly and the kids.

"Shower up and then come in for debriefing," Mad-Eye called to her from across the department.

Relief filled her.

It had been Louisa's insistence, she recalled, that had driven her for leather leggings that had now glued themselves uncomfortably to her knees and backside. Lou had held a long-winded lecture on the necessity for her to look like a 'bad ass' as a hit witch, and had filled Charlie's modest wardrobe with leather, suede, and satin in shades of obsidian, emerald, and smoky grays. When she had left the house that morning, she had felt confident in the corset-topped blouse and skin-tight leather leggings. Over the last year, she had filled out to a healthy weight. For the first time in years, Louisa had not admonished her lack of cleavage by throwing her inserts at every opportunity.

Now, Charlie sorely regretted her wardrobe choice and thought that the smart trousers Emmeline had worn were likely a better option. Surely they hadn't trapped pockets of fragrant pond water in pockets that bulged behind her knees and sat uncomfortably close to her crotch.

She took a quick walk through the girls' bunk room, where most aurors slept during the week while they were on call. Stopping at her locker, she seized a pair of soft sweats and hurried to the shared showers.

After selecting a clean stall, Charlie quickly stripped down and slid beneath the deluge of hot water streaming from the showerhead.

A groan escaped her mouth as she watched bits of green fall from the creases in her joints.

"Careful, Fraser, or someone will think we're committing adultery in here."

Charlie froze.

"Dearborn?"

"Thanks for leaving me and Vance to deal with the butterflies, Fraser. Class act, there."

She laughed as she dipped her head back beneath the water, scrubbing her hair free of the odorous pond scum, "You had it, Dearborn," she echoed his words back to him.

The auror echoed her laugh, his voice throaty. She wondered how long ago he had returned to the department, and whether he had already turned his notes in to Mad-Eye.

From an outside perspective – as Vance often reminded her – their friendship was peculiar.

Cian had disliked her when she joined the department. He had freely told her so on numerous occasions. When Charlie was not struggling with basic shield charms where her other recruits had flown through without difficulty, she was flailing about in their Legilimency courses.

For months, Charlie had struggled to determine what level of effort she should apply in her lessons with Dearborn. From her conversations with Remus, it would be nearly impossible to hold back for too long with Dearborn. He was a talented Occlumens, that perhaps rivaled Snape. But Charlie had never wanted to appear overeager in her lesson. She had frequently pressed images to the forefront of her mind that she wouldn't mind the auror seeing and had been satisfied to receive marks that equated to barely passing.

Mad-Eye, she thought, would know she was faking them. She didn't necessarily need to worry about her grades in the course, as much as she needed to worry about Dearborn.

Now, the pair had few issues. Several nights a month they left work to grab pints at the Leaky Cauldron and share a few stories of their times in the war. Cian didn't flinch away from her tales of being a Death Eater. Rather, he had seemed to accept both sides of it. Whether this was because Moody had already debriefed him, or he was simply a realistic man, Charlie didn't press too much thought. It was nice, she reminded herself, to get along with a few people at the department when so many of them had skirted around her as though she had some contagious ailment.

She was careful to always wear something that covered her arms.

Around Dearborn, she threw caution to the wind. The auror had accompanied her home several times after particularly gruesome assignments, when she risked splinching herself in exhaustion. Other times, he had properly escorted her home when she had overindulged on firewhiskey at Tom's. He had seen her Dark Mark a handful of times and had never bothered to make a comment about it. After all, she reminded herself, it was on her employment file at the Ministry.

_Known Death Eater_.

After properly scrubbing herself to pink-skinned cleanliness, Charlie quickly dried herself with a soft flick of her wand and dressed. Throwing her still damp hair into a sloppy ball at the top of her head, she stepped out to watch Cian slink from the shower in a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips.

"See you out there," she called, as she darted to the girls' bunk door.

She didn't enjoy Cian's confidence.

There had always been air about the auburn-haired wizard that dripped with sex appeal. He had all the basics of attraction down – a chiseled jaw, a fresh spray of dark stubble, and ocean blue eyes. Lou had made plenty of coy comments about the auror, despite her budding romance with Dominick Avery.

_That is what they call sex in a pair of shoes, Charlie._

But Charlie couldn't help but make comparisons.

Whereas Cian was brash and oftentimes rushed into decisions, Charlie thought of how calculating and precise Severus was. After nearly two years of no contact with her husband, she found her thoughts drifting more and more to the dark-haired wizard.

Severus spent half of the summer at Spinner's End, and the other half at her home in London.

Though all of their mutual friends were well-aware of their separation, there was intention behind his actions. Severus left items each few days he would stay at her home. Once, it was a stack of lesson plans on the marble-topped coffee table. Another, it was a pair of his pajamas. Charlie left the items untouched until he returned for them, choosing to spend those nights in the bunk room at work.

It was enough of a presence that it had been noticed by Cian.

_I thought you were separated_, he had said.

Charlie had wanted to assure him that they were. The process of changing her name had taken enough time to be bothersome, and she had been pleased to return to her maiden name and free herself from a small bit of Snape. However, she had stared down at the pajama pants wadded in her laundry basket and found her stomach twisting.

There was no need for him to do it, other than to protect her, she reminded herself.

Remus in the last few weeks had grown increasingly insistent that she reach out to Snape. The summer had just begun, really, for Hogwarts' staff and students. In two months, Severus would be returning to the castle to begin a new school term. According to Remus, the last had been particularly brutal on his students. William – Molly and Arthur's oldest – had Snape for Potions. He was in his third year now at Hogwarts, and apparently had never encountered a more brutal version of the potions master.

Charlie sometimes found herself sitting in the Ministry cafeteria, wondering whether he had eaten breakfast when too often he went without. She caught herself, nearly two years later, overfilling the kettle with enough water for two.

Cian hadn't pressed her for an answer that night, or any days afterward. Despite every opportunity to remind him that she was, she went mute. When he lingered over her desk with his intoxicating cologne, she thought of the soft, medicinal scent of her husband. If she nearly toppled over in a state of intoxication or exhaustion and the wizard caught her with his broad, hard chest, she thought of the wiry, lean muscle that had lined Snape's.

But each time she had sat at her desk with quill in hand, her parchment remained empty.

What could she say to someone who had taken everything away from her?

Charlie hugged the long sweatshirt sleeves to her chest as she crossed the department floor to Mad-Eye's office. Soon, Eugenia Wallace – the mousy witch who had sold out the Longbottoms – would be returning from her assignment, along with Gregory McClaren, the draft pick of the Chudley Cannons, who had decided to drop a cushy career in professional Quidditch for a grueling one as a hit wizard.

The others had not survived the last twelve months of training. Whether it be from injury, as the case with the Russian wizard whose name Charlie had never bothered to remember, or from failing examinations as the Bulgarian who had worked for Rabastan had done in Legilimency.

"Come in," Mad-Eye barked when she knocked.

Alastor Moody's office was ominous. Each wall was covered in Foe-Glass and the free spaces of his walls were covered in old _Prophet_ articles advertising successful arrests of renowned Death Eaters. The auror's desk was piled with paperwork – processing, old arrest audits – and a large bowl that likely at some time housed a goldfish.

A pair of opened envelopes sat on the wizard's desk, covered in pond-scum fingerprints.

"Those are your progress reports from Vance and Dearborn. What do you think they say?"

Charlie paused, "That I passed?"

Mad-Eye snorted, shifting through a stack of papers on a file cabinet behind his desk, "That's all they'll say? Nothing about your progress in the program, accounts of the arrest?"

A sigh left her mouth, "I'm sure they have all of that as well."

"Not interested in those bits, are you, Fraser?"

"Not particularly."

Alastor sat abruptly at his desk, the mechanical leg squeaking as he adjusted himself comfortably.

"You'll be issued some paperwork to fill out, Fraser. A new badge. Some security clearances," the auror began, "The typical things for a woman in your new position."

"I've passed then?"

The auror had moved to grab an envelope, and he paused, "You've passed, but there are restrictions. Ones that will not apply to your colleagues."

Charlie's eyes narrowed, "What does that mean?"

"You were a Death Eater, Fraser. I understand that the circumstances to which you gained that Dark Mark are not the same as it was for others. I know that you were bullied into the position – but you used your abilities to further Voldemort's cause, did you not?"

As her eyes fell to her lap, Charlie attempted to calm the budding heat that began in her lungs.

In twelve months, she had proven herself just as capable – if not, better – than the others she had entered her training program with. She had worked harder, spending hours gaining additional instruction from Remus. Even Dearborn had agreed to tutor her on the subjects she struggled with – shield charms and tracking spells.

There was no reason she should be restricted because of her former affiliation with the Dark Lord. After all, he had hired her despite it.

"An auror will accompany you on any arrests involving those with known involvement to Voldemort."

"Like Wallace?"

Mad-Eye fixed her with a stern look at her biting comment, "You will be subject to more scrutiny than your peers. It's in your interest to have a witness, girl."

Charlie's face heated, "'_In my interest'_?"

"Yes, your interest. Do you know what happens when a hit witch loses her credibility? When you've shot off one too many Unforgiveables in the chase? You become the hunted, Fraser."

Alastor tossed her an envelope, "Hand this over to Maureen at the front. She'll start your paperwork."

Her fingers trembled as they gripped the envelope.

"Stay out of trouble, Fraser."

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Thank you for your patience in this update! I would like to thank my new beta, Teru, for helping me get this out in a timely fashion and for assisting in our new cover art. Writer's block is a real beast. A few people have messaged me about the timing of updates. Frankly, I've tried to keep it to a two week time-line in the past but I don't like making promises to you that I can't keep. I'll be posting rough estimates of updates on my profile and my Facebook page. I, unfortunately, am in a town that is affected by COVID-19 and am transitioning to work from home because of it. I'm not sure yet if this will mean more frequent updates or not. I hope all of you remain safe out there!

**House Cup **

_Year 2 _

Gryffindor - 60

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Hufflepuff - 45

Ravenclaw - 30

**Bring your House to Glory! Mention your Hogwarts House in the review section for five points towards the House Cup!**


	25. Chapter 25

Hello lovelies!

I'd like to apologize for the significant delay in getting this chapter up. I've posted an AN at the bottom of this chapter, and hope updates will become a bit more regulated in a few weeks. Enjoy!

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Remus took the steps at 27 Finch Street in twos. His fingers wrapped around a serpent-shaped handle and shouldered his way into a pristine foyer.

"Charlie!"

His voice met still air, softly scented with an herbaceous incense the homeowner frequently burned and listed to his own heavy breathing. He had spent the late afternoon assisting Molly with decorating the burrow in shades of plum and silver, wrangling the Weasley twins away from the party crackers, and listening to the shrill, angry screams of Ginny. He was, in other words, exhausted, and longing for the pint he had expected to have when the day began.

Instead, as guests arrived with graduation presents, he became acutely aware of the reason for their celebration's absence. He had assumed, up to an hour ago, that her arrest had simply run late. He recalled hearing something about Swooping Evils from Arthur, who had checked in with Mad-Eye when assignments were handed out, and assumed that since he knew Charlie had spent most of Professor Kettleburn's class in various states of indecency with Sirius, that she was probably struggling.

It was not until Cian Dearborn and Emmeline Vance arrived without the coffee-haired witch that he had realized something had gone awry.

"Lupin."

The Hogwarts Potion master had appeared while Remus caught his breath, a dark brow raised to smooth the scowl that seemed permanently engraved in the wizard's face.

"Is Charlie here?"

Lupin's words left his mouth breathlessly, and he watched the dark eyebrow pitch higher.

"Do you presume she is enjoying my company?"

"She didn't come to the Weasleys."

Severus's scowl was replaced with narrowed, dark eyes, "What?"

Remus spent several moments repeating Cian's own words to the wizard.

Everything had gone well – as well as could be expected once one had a mouthful of pungent marsh water – with Charlie's arrest. She had returned to the Ministry, turned her arrest in for processing, and showered. Cian recounted that she had then gone to Moody's office for review of her arrest and spent no longer than a half hour in his office before leaving. Maureen, at the front desk, had confirmed for him already that Charlie had been processed in as a Hit Witch, received her shield, and left the Ministry headquarters quarter to six.

Severus stood silently as Remus recounted his wife's actions in the last several hours.

"Have you spoken to Alastor?"

Remus fell silent, his eyes darted around the foyer, as though expecting the dark-haired witch to be hiding in the buffet cupboard.

"I spoke to him at the Ministry."

The black-haired wizard appeared to be losing his patience, "And what did he say?"

"That he gave Charlie a babysitter. They're not actually going to make her a Hit Witch. She has the title and the badge, but she'll be working for Dearborn. He doesn't plan on actually using her."

"Until the Dark Lord returns," Severus finished him.

Lupin felt his stomach sour.

"Did he tell her?"

For a moment, Remus did not want to tell him.

He recalled during the days of the wizarding war what Severus Snape's anger looked like. Lupin had seen in firsthand, that day in the Ministry of Magic. He hadn't known then that it had been Charlie.

He had simply seen the aftermath.

Many in what remained of the Order of the Phoenix did not believe that Snape held any affection for his wife. They had simply seen how easily Severus had transitioned into living without her – he went to work just as he had previously, he was occasionally seen shopping for items in the apothecary, and occasionally had a pint or two with Lucius Malfoy or Augustus Rookwood in Diagon Alley. On the surface it looked as though the potion master was entirely unaffected by the estrangement with his wife.

Remus had chosen to remain silent as the chatter continued in the Diagon Alley when what remained of them gathered to share a pint and stories of the war.

Perhaps he had done it for Charlie. She had never shared any wartime stories with any of them, she did not offer any tales of her actions during the war. Remus could argue that he had not wanted to further tarnish any reputation she was growing with her new comrades in the Ministry.

But there was a part of him that knew over the last several years, he had grown a semblance of friendship with the wizard. It was mere tolerance by Severus, but it had come with respect. Remus did not know if he could hate the man who had cared diligently for his friend for years. Remus had seen him carry her when she was too weak to walk, protect her from the harsh words spoken behind her back, and endlessly searched for a cure. Severus Snape loved her, even if he hadn't realized it himself.

"He told her that an auror would accompany her on any arrests of previously suspected Death Eaters. I don't think he told her that those would be the only arrests he would assign her. I imagine she simply read that in her processing paperwork."

Snape's eyes had morphed into serpentine slits, "So she's worked herself half to death for nothing?"

His voice was venomous, and Lupin flinched at the octave the potion master's voice had arisen to.

"I never would have encouraged her, Severus, if I had known."

"They never would have told you, foolish mongrel! You would have run it straight back to her!"

Remus felt his face heat, "They're not cruel, Severus. They didn't do this to hurt her."

Snape snorted loudly, "You hold far too much ignorance for a man of your intelligence, Lupin."

The werewolf swallowed as his face grew hotter.

Charlie herself had brought concerns to him. Remus had thought Alastor was simply being precautious. Perhaps he wanted to use her skill in possession to assist him with apprehending violent criminals. Remus had told himself that between Dumbledore and Mad-Eye, Charlie was in good hands.

Dumbledore had never willfully harmed anyone in the Order.

"Stay here, wait to see if she comes home."

"Where are you going?"

Severus didn't supply an answer, checking his pocket for his wand and apparating in the foyer.

Remus stood in the foyer for several moments, waiting for the rush of air which accompanied an apparation to settle. Slowly, he made his way up the foyer stairs to the kitchen.

A tea kettle sat abandoned upon a trivet, still softly steaming at the spout. Several books had been spread across the wide kitchen island accompanied with scraps of parchment and a worn pheasant quill sat swimming in an ink well.

Oftentimes, it was simple to forget that the estranged married couple both occupied this space in turns. Through the week, Severus lived at the townhome and Remus knew that the Malfoys had come to visit him on a number of occasions, as well as Avery and Louisa Rosier. During those days, Charlie stayed at the Magical Law Enforcement dorm rooms to be closer to the office.

Remus had never been to the house when Severus occupied the space. It held a strange, unfamiliar stillness to it. Whereas Charlie's personality lit the otherwise cool décor, filling rooms with her quiet laughter and fluorescent smiles, the furnishings complemented the otherwise cold exterior of the potion master she had married.

His fingers reached to turn on Charlie's wireless radio, positioning himself onto one of the leather-topped stools to fill the silence.

When Charlie had taken the position at the Ministry of Magic, Remus had been skeptical. He had assumed that it was Mad-Eye who had pulled the strings along to suit his own means and had often wondered when the auror would begin grooming Charlie to use for possession. After speaking with the Head Auror, Remus doubted he had been quite as far-thinking.

That had always been left to Albus Dumbledore.

Charlie certainly would've had the ability to quell any dangerous arrests. She could likely slip into a wizard or witch's mind and have them march themselves directly to Mad-Eye's desk. Remus could see how that would appeal to Moody. He had argued it himself, not far from where he now sat.

He would never simply keep Charlie on a shelf to use for a day that may never come.

Even if Dumbledore's assumptions about Voldemort were true, and the dark wizard did return, it was impossible to presume what time that would take place. It wasn't in Moody to simply pay Charlie to do a job she wasn't going to do.

No, it had been Dumbledore.

Dumbledore would've wanted Charlie around. He would've wanted her to build friendships that she otherwise would not have encountered in the life she had planned to live after leaving Snape. In the Ministry, Charlie had forged friendships. She had supper regularly with the Weasleys and had been out to London with Emmeline a handful of times. She, Kingsley, and Dearborn had been to several Quidditch games together.

But in the other life, Remus realized now, she would've forged friendships, too. The Malfoys, for instance, would likely have taken her in. During the war, he knew she had often stayed at Malfoy Manor and that Narcissa had kept rooms for Charlie's work for Voldemort. Perhaps she would've remarried – Rookwood, or Avery, perhaps – and had a family.

That life would've taken her further from Dumbledore, Remus now knew.

Remus wondered if there would ever be a time in Charlie's life where she wasn't being used as a pawn to someone's desires. Snape had used Charlie to climb the ranks for Voldemort. Remus, in his own way, had used her to fill the void in his life left by the murders and imprisonment of his own friends. She reminded him of happier times. Now, she was being used for the Order.

He could not quite imagine how it must have felt.

He could still recall the day they stood, watching her house being set aflame. He could still hear the guttural scream that had left his friend's mouth before they silenced him, the inhuman noises of grief he had made after they dragged him home. Lupin wondered if Charlie felt like that all the time, watching the fire which had been set at the feet of her life being stoked and blown out by opposing sides.

Not for the first time, Remus wondered what would have happened if Charlie had married Sirius.

The reasons Sirius had for betraying the Potters ran as a wheel of possibility in Lupin's mind each time he thought long enough about it. For all purposes, Sirius had loved James like a brother. He was Harry's godfather, and though Remus knew James had loved all of them, Remus knew that James had loved Sirius just a bit more. It was evident in all the small ways – that whenever James had hatched a plan at Hogwarts, Sirius had been the first to know. Whereas the others had often attempted to hide their debauchery from Remus – he had, after all, been a Prefect – Sirius and James could scheme together as though they were split from the same mind.

In all his moments of grief, he could only arrive at one assumption.

Perhaps Sirius had blamed James for Charlie.

It was no secret that James Potter had hated Charlotte Fraser. He blatantly ignored her when he was not targeting rumors at the dark-haired witch. On several occasions, Remus had caught James tripping the girl in the corridors, sending her howlers, replacing her quills with ones that exploded and coated her in ink.

Remus had thought it was innocent fun, but after a time, he realized it for what it was.

James, in part, had been jealous of Sirius's relationship with Charlie. Sirius had never needed to chase Charlie. After all, she had lived in his house. They fit together like simple puzzle pieces. Whereas Charlotte could be soft and quiet, Sirius was loud and outspoken. He ran hot and she ran cold. They had always complemented one another, and perhaps James had hated it. He had spent six years at Hogwarts hounding after Lily Evans to no avail. It had not mattered if he was picking on her or surprising her with bouquets of roses – Lily had routinely turned him down. Oftentimes, Remus wondered if she had finally broken down and agreed to date James simply to make the harassment stop.

It had been James who had encouraged Sirius to purchase the flat nearby Godric's Hollow. He had known, of course, that Charlie had been afraid of muggles. They all had. James had insisted he wanted Sirius close by as the war became more violent. Whether it was to protect him or satisfy his own desires, Lupin could never know for certain. But James, he remembered, had never batted an eye when Sirius had left Charlie after their last argument. If anything, he had been overjoyed.

He had set Sirius up with a girl from the Ministry, whose name Lupin could no longer recall. But in honesty, after Charlie, none of the girls had lasted long. He had cycled through them with an air of disdain. Sirius couldn't be bothered with their birthdays, holidays, or anniversaries. Not in the way he had painstakingly chosen gifts for Charlie, or the way he had staked out the Great Hall to break into a ballad of 'Happy Birthday' for the chocolate-haired witch.

Remus doubted Sirius had ever loved anyone but Charlotte Fraser.

Perhaps he had set up Lily and James – who had frequently tried to replace Charlie – in some act of rebellion. Remus didn't think Sirius ever had it in him to actually kill them. Perhaps he had intended to intervene at the last moment.

He tried not to think of it too often.

But perhaps Charlie could've married Sirius. He knew at the very least, the two would have led happier lives. Perhaps the Potters would still be here. They'd be preparing, at the time of year, for Harry's birthday. Peter would be asking after Lily's shortbread, and Sirius and Charlie would be sitting on a sofa – as they had often done – with their foreheads pressed together.

Remus knew about injustice.

As he sat on Charlie's leather-topped bar stool, he thought this might be the greatest injustice he had ever seen.

_A storm is brewing in Spinner's End, reports are now flying in! Black clouds have blocked out the summer sun. Reports say they suspect this is an act of juvenile magic. We ask that you avoid the area until the Ministry can intervene…_

Remus grew cold.

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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We've had a rough few months in the Kestrel household during this pandemic, and I hope all of you are safe and healthy. I relate a lot of Charlotte's PTSD with my own. Unfortunately, I've been quite unwell with the shut down and have been struggling a bit to keep up with work, moving, and getting this written out. We're moving next month into our very first house, so updates next month might be a bit slow as I get everything relocated. This time, I'm uploading this story onto a hard-drive so you aren't waiting weeks like we did the last time we moved! I hope that you all remain safe and well. You are all in my thoughts, and I thank you to the readers who reached out to me via Facebook and on here to check in with me. I truly have the very best readers. #Snarlie forever, thank you DeeD59, for the name!

* * *

_Bring your House to Glory! Drop your House name in the Review Section to be awarded 5 points! Winner takes the House Cup at the end of the series! _

**House Cup**

**Gryffindor: 115**

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**Hufflepuff: 55**

**Slytherin: 60**

I'm disappointed in you, Slytherins, we're more calculating than this.

An extra five points to each reviewer who adds their favorite Harry Potter candy to their review.


	26. Chapter 26

I'm back! I don't have COVID! I haven't died! Your lovely messages are truly the only fuel I have right now keeping the creative juices pumping. As always, an author note follows below but I wanted to say a very special thank you to all of my reviewers, followers, and readers. In addition to the giant wall of plot mapping, I am prone to save my favorite reviews when I have caught an especially nasty case of writer's block.

**I will post a warning here that this chapter may be disturbing to some readers. Discretion and shield charms may apply.**

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_It's only been a few days, she thought as her fingers plucked at the pilling of her sweater. It was normal, she reminded herself, for Walburga to take time to reply to her letters. Perhaps she had run out of her stationary and had needed to pop by Diagon Alley for a new packet. The thought consoled Charlotte for a moment as Bibsy pressed a cup of tea into her hands._

'_Mistress? Should Bibsy go to Grimmauld Place?' _

'_No,' Charlotte commanded quietly, 'Don't leave the house'. _

_ Nodding, Bibsy set the silver trimmed tea pot at the table beside her with a plate of shortbread. Charlotte absently smiled at the gesture. _

'_Do we have any more for when Regulus comes home? They're his favorite.'_

'_Bibsy will make some more, Mistress,' Bibsy answered cheerfully, her long fingers adjusting the blanket across Charlotte's lap, 'Is there anything else Bibsy can do for Mistress?'_

'_No, I'll just wait here a bit longer, in case he comes home. I don't want to be asleep when he gets here.' _

_ Bibsy nodded, her violently green eyes crinkling. Charlotte recalled when the tiny elf, wearing a discarded curtain toga, had been presented to her. Bibsy had been an exceptional house elf. Charlotte had rarely seen her in the first few months of her marriage. It was the mark of a good house elf, Walburga had proclaimed, that they remain unseen and unheard. _

_But Regulus was gone often, and Charlotte had found herself seeking the company of Bibsy. Often, at night, she would knock on Bibsy's cabinet and they would cook together as Charlotte would sometimes do with Kreacher at Grimmauld Place. Bibsy had taught Charlotte to make shortbread, ginger biscuits, and Yorkshire pudding, as Walburga had never believed in teaching Charlotte to make anything other than tea._

_Now, they enjoyed one another's company. It was their nightly routine to sit near the fire as Bibsy attended to her mending of Regulus's robes and Charlotte indulged in her books._

'_Bibsy'll make a fresh pot, Mistress. Oolong, again?'_

'_Thank you.' _

_ Three days ago, Severus had sat in the chair across from where she now perched, speaking ominous words._

They've caught him, Charlotte.

_The words had hardly settled in the air before she had launched herself to write Orion. Orion, she thought, would know what to do. He could use his Ministry connections, and Regulus would be home by supper. She told Severus so, as she searched her desk for a quill._

I don't mean the Order. The Dark Lord caught him. He's betrayed us.

_An incredulous laugh had escaped her mouth. Perhaps at times recently, Regulus had indulged too heavily in firewhiskey while out with the other men. He could often come home, slurring about Malfoy's schemes and Snape's plotting. Charlotte had summed it to be nothing more than an illusion created in the bottom of a bottle._

_ Too quickly, Charlotte reached for her cup of tea. _

_ It tipped from the saucer, and for a moment, time seemed to slow as it fell from the table._

_ The blanket slipped from her lap as she tried to catch it in its tumble, oolong splashing onto her high-pile rug. A soft curse left her mouth as she watched brown liquid seep into the fibers._

_ She looked to the corridor, and her mouth opened to call for Bibsy. _

_ Heat and glass exploded above her head._

_ Charlotte fell to the carpet, her throat suddenly mute as fireballs rained through the study window._

_ They landed in soft, hot piles upon the stained rug. Starting no larger than a quaffle, they rolled across the fibers leaving scorched, black trails. _

_ Outside, Charlotte heard screaming laughter._

'_Come out, blood traitor!'_

_ Her throat tightened as her eyes darted between the rolling quaffles of flames and the shattered study window._

'_Mistress?'_

_ The balls grew as they rolled, something moving beneath their surface as they burned her mahogany floors, blistering the wax Bibsy had so carefully polished into them. Charlotte's chin trembled as she watched them land against the curtains, corridor doorway._

_ For a moment, the laughter outside seemed to silence. Charlotte reached for the spilled teacup with violently shaking hands. Snape's words echoed in her head._

It is no longer safe for you here, Charlotte.

_By the time her fingers had touched the hand painted porcelain, an inferno unleashed._

_ Charlotte had never seen a muggle bomb explosion. Her parents had died by one in Ireland. She had never tried to imagine it. It was supposed to be messy and instantaneous._

_ Fiendfyre was not like a muggle bomb._

_ It was perhaps hell's reincarnation in magic._

_ A flaming chimaera leapt from her curtains, unleashing a roar akin to nails scraping chalkboards. Charlotte's hands dropped her teacup to press her palms against her ears as she felt hot air wash over her like a violent, crashing wave._

_ As the chimaera began its stampede towards her corridor stairs, a blazing dragon blew a billow of embers across the study's ceiling._

'_MISTRESS!'_

_ Somewhere, Bibsy had begun screaming. _

_ Smoke filled the study, curling towards the flaming ceiling in violent, red hot clouds. The very air seemed to be ignited as it scorched her nostrils, throat, and set her lungs afire._

_ Her mouth let nothing but violent, rasping coughs escape. Her chest heaved with the effort to suck some semblance of air, but each breath brought raging, blistering heat._

_ Charlotte fell to her hands and listened to her house elf now shrieking down the corridor. She pulled her wand from her pocket and sucked in a breath._

'_Aguamenti!' _

_ The word tumbled from her mouth in a hot rasp._

_ Water sputtered from her wand tip, coating the floor around her in a puddle._

_ However, the water did not impede the blazing beasts as they morphed and crashed into one another – dragons, chimaeras, and serpents. They began as licking flames from her crushed velvet curtains and descended upon mahogany floors as smoldering monstrosities. They turned their flaming heads to sweep the blistering air and stampeded the corridor, crashing into the walls and sending them ablaze. _

_ Charlotte could no longer hear Bibsy. The roar of the beasts filled her ears and the hot air pressed against every orifice and pore of her body. Her hands and knees moved across the scalding floorboards, feeling her silk nightdress catch and tear beneath her. _

'_BIBSY!'_

_ She felt by memory as she gasped for air, her wand uselessly clutched between her fingers. Her palms memorized the floor and every fold of rugs as her eyes watered and streamed from the smoke._

_ Everywhere around her, glowing ash fell. _

_ It caught in her hair and seared her flesh. _

'_BIBSY!'_

_ Her voice sounded inhumane to her ears, a hacking concoction of distorted screams and gasps._

_ The house was filled with Bibsy's shrill screams._

_ Bibsy could not hear her._

_ Her palms blistered as she crawled to the kitchen, her eyes burning with the effort to squint through their streaming tears. The chimaera appeared in the doorway, its lion jaws wide. Its mouth dripped cherry-red coals._

_ Charlotte blinked and the doorway exploded as the chimaera crashed into its frame._

_ A scream broke through her throat, tearing through in an animalistic shriek as burning floorboards landed across her legs, setting her nightgown ablaze._

_ She rolled against the hot floor; her limbs violently shook as her legs pressed against the floor to snuff her smoldering night dress. Charlotte pulled herself across the floor by her arms, her muscles screaming as they shook and trembled in terror and effort._

_ It felt like an eternity crawling against the floor as her house was engulfed at her back. Hot waves of air as things exploded and collapsed washing over her like tsunami waves of heat. When her fingers touched the brass plate of her door, she whimpered as the metal singed her fingertips. Her thighs ached as she arched herself to grab the doorknob, screaming as it branded her palm._

_ The air outside was frigid in comparison as she collapsed on the wet snowmelt of her brick stairs. She tumbled down them gracelessly, her knees and hands smearing crimson trails. Her throat screamed as she gulped down icy lungful's of air. _

_ Inside, Bibsy was still screaming. _

_ For a moment, Charlotte wondered why she had not left. She could apparate. It was simple enough for her to go to Grimmauld Place and await Charlotte. _

_ She froze._

'Don't leave the house',_ she had ordered her._

_ Bibsy had never disobeyed an order from her mistress._

_ A whimper of a wail left her mouth as she turned to look at the flames engulfing her study, melting the carefully acquired paintings Walburga had furnished the gold-leaf wallpapered walls with. The marble fireplace was obscured now by the wingspan of a flaming dragon as it opened its mouth and screamed. _

_ She did not have a moment to grieve her house elf, or to question her ability to find her. Before she could allow the thoughts to enter her mind, two sets of hands seized her elbows, and she was dragged forward._

_ Unadulterated sobs left her mouth as her bloodied knees dragged across the brick sidewalks, catching on every uneven corner. _

_ Around her, the street was blackened. It was not by darkness or failed streetlights. _

_ Every surface was filled with a black robe and silver mask, softly chanting into the night._

'_Traitor'_

'_Traitor'_

'_Traitor'_

_ Unrelenting hands pulled her to her feet and turned her around. A palm and five fingers gripped the back of her singed hair to violently turn her head towards the fiendfyre inferno that just a half hour before, had been her home._

_ Flames licked the brick exterior as the stained-glass windows exploded, showering the sidewalk in emerald sands. Inside, Bibsy still screamed – animalistic noises now. The noises of a dying creature._

_ Charlotte's stomach heaved. The unrelenting hand did not allow her to turn her eyes from the hellfire to vomit. What remained of Charlotte Black's dignity – and her tea – spilled down the front of her bloodied, soot-streaked night dress as laughter chorused through the filled street._

'_My dear, sweet, Charlotte,' a hiss crooned at her ear, 'What has happened?'_

_ Her knees knocked together as she shook._

'_Do you know what your husband has done, hm?' _

_ The hands which held her to her feet dropped her, and she violently trembled on the cold asphalt, her arms reaching to cover her vomit stains and exposed thighs._

'_BOW TO YOUR DARK LORD, TRAITOR!'_

_ Shrieks echoed in the night sky and Charlotte hurried to follow their command, her stomach aching as it heaved to no avail. The gags pressed against her burned throat and scorched tongue._

'_You're a widow now,' the Dark Lord chortled, 'How does it feel? Any different?' _

_ Regulus was dead._

'_I wonder if she'll cast away her traitor husband's name. Become a Fraser, again, perhaps?' _

_ If Regulus was dead, Walburga knew._

_ She had the tapestry._

_ Walburga had watched that tapestry every day since Sirius ran away, waiting for his birthdate to be matched alongside his death date with a sneering eagerness. She would have seen her precious Regulus's banner change. _

_ Walburga hadn't answered any of her owls._

You'll be branded as much a traitor as he's been.

_Snape's words filled her ringing ears._

You will have to redeem yourself when the time comes.

_Charlotte's nose dripped onto her thighs._

'_I do hate to waste magical blood, Mrs. Black, but you know what must be done.'_

_ A curved wand tip pressed against her forehead._

'_A shame, really. A pity. Such promise.' _

'_I'll take his place,' Charlotte found the words leaving her mouth in a raspy whisper. _

'_Ah, begging,' The Dark Lord grinned, his white teeth pressed against his red mouth, 'What value could you bring to me, girl?' _

_ Charlotte trembled as snow began to mix amidst the descending ash._

'_She is capable of possession, my lord,' A smooth, familiar voice spoke through silence, 'I have seen it.'_

_ The Dark Lord raised a single black eyebrow, 'Show me, Snape'._

_ Charlotte's eyes held no moment of shock or disbelief as Severus pulled his silver mask from his face and stepped forward. His gray eyes did not fall to the bloodied, soot-streaked heap she had created on London's streets. He looked into the Dark Lord's eyes without flinching and allowed his master entry._

_ Nothing but the cloudy breaths filling the street interrupted the dying wails of her house elf inside as her eyes looked up at the unblinking pair before her. _

_ When their connection broke, the Dark Lord turned his eyes to her._

_ For several moments, he did not speak a word._

'_Such promise indeed.'_

_ A smile split his lips, 'Redemption, Charlotte, is upon you. You will take the traitor's place. Bring her up, Severus'._

_ Hands seized her elbows once more, dragging her to unsteady feet._

'_The arm,' a pale hand demanded. _

_ Snape outstretched her blistered and bloodied arm to his master._

_ His curved wand traced the pattern on her skin, soft whispers muted against the roar of crumbling beams and the final, gasping wails of a dying creature within the blaze._

_ Her arm burned with the Mark, and it dropped to her side._

'_Now, you will be part of this family, Fraser,' the Dark Lord whispered at her ear, 'Forever.' _

"CHARLOTTE!"

In the abyss, it was warm.

It was a warmth that her body had forgotten. It swelled from the marrow in her bones, enveloping her flesh like a loving embrace. The soft buzzing whispers filled her ears as though a hive had been built within her skull, lulling her towards the blackness.

Perhaps, she thought, she did not need a family.

She had, after all, been given several of them.

Her mother and father.

The Blacks.

Sirius.

Regulus.

The Dark Lord.

Severus.

The Order.

Each had crumbled beneath the touch of her fingertips. Her parents were dead, killed by radical muggles. The Blacks had disowned her. Sirius was in Azkaban. Regulus was dead. The Dark Lord was gone. Severus had betrayed her.

And the Order.

There was not a slice of ice large enough to press against the burn that swelled in her chest.

It was as though the chimaera from her corridor was breaching her ribcage, splitting each bone from her sternum like snapping the strings of a violin. It was there once more, its mouth dripping cherry red coals as it prepared to kill Bibsy. Now it was being born within her bones.

The Order had lied to her.

Dumbledore, Moody, Dearborn, they had all used her.

Snape's house charms would have allowed her entry without a moment hesitation. She had been able to slip beyond the gate with ease. His magic had pressed against her skin as though recalling her every contour before relaxing with familiarity.

But she did not live at the dilapidated house in Spinner's End.

None of her belongings remained within its walls.

She had not felt comfortable violating whatever arrangement she had made with Snape. Instead, she had seated herself on his stoop and prepared to gather herself. In a few hours, she reminded herself, Molly expected her at the Burrow.

There would be strawberry cake and false smiles. Arthur would belt out a version of 'She's a Jolly Good Fellow' as he had threatened at the Leaky Cauldron just last week. It would be a vision of the sort of family Charlotte had always wanted.

It had all been a lie.

Across the yard, Severus now stood staring at her with wide, wild eyes.

"_CHARLOTTE!_"

His voice carried over the screams of the wind around her.

He probably wasn't real, Charlotte told herself.

The wind sounded eerily of Bibsy's dying breaths.

She was seeing all kinds of things that weren't real, she reminded herself.

Charlotte's eyes dropped to her hands. Even now, years later, she could faintly see the Black crest branded into her palm from the doorknob. She traced its silvery lines as the buzzing in her ears drove in octave to a low roar.

'_Toujours Pur_'.

Next to her, Bibsy pressed her large head against the witch's arm. She let out a soft sigh that rang like a scream in Charlotte's ears.

"Let's go have some shortbread, Mistress," the house elf sighed, "And wait for Master Regulus."

Charlotte found herself nodding.

"Take Bibsy's hand, Mistress," Bibsy climbed to her feet and outstretched a hand filled with soot-streaked, long fingers, "Master Regulus is waiting."

Her legs felt like jelly beneath her as she stood, her arm reaching for Bibsy's outstretched hand as the skin split and blistered.

"Bibsy will do anything for Mistress," the house elf was saying as her eyes began to blacken and burn, "Anything for Mistress Charlotte."

A sob broke through Charlotte's mouth, and she stumbled forward.

If she took Bibsy's hand, perhaps, it would all stop.

Perhaps she would wake in front of the fireplace, waiting for Regulus. Maybe it would be different now. She could make different choices. She could burn, instead. It would be better, she thought, than living like this.

_Such promise, indeed._

Her fingertips touched Bibsy's, and a smile broke through her twisted mouth as the house-elf began to return to her old appearance. It seemed to spread from her fingers – pinky, washed flesh, the fine crushed velvet remnant from Charlotte's curtains in that same brilliant emerald hue.

A hard body slammed into her.

The chimaera.

Charlotte's eyes looked above her to see the beast, its paws pressing against her shoulders.

"_CHARLOTTE_!"

Its roar sounded eerily familiar – its voice a sharp, rumbling thunder.

"MISTRESS!"

Bibsy was screaming now, and Charlotte struggled against the searing paws of the beast above her, her arms outstretched to the house-elf.

"BIBSY!" Charlotte's voice split and fissured as the heat filled her throat.

The fire was engulfing the elf now, the emerald curtain now a toga of flames.

It had been her, she recalled vividly. She had never been able to forget.

_Don't leave the house._

House elves never disobeyed an order from their mistress.

Bibsy had burned for her loyalty.

Charlotte's searing throat sucked in a lungful of hot, ashy air. The scream that erupted from her mouth shattered the windows behind her. It silenced the wind howling around her and the roars of the chimaera above her. It ruptured the blood vessels of her eyes until they were red, amber, and streaming.

_Oh, such promise, _it growled. _Such promise indeed._

Her body stiffened.

_Murderer, _it crooned_._

_Murderer._

_Murderer._

_Murderer._

"I didn't mean to," Charlotte whimpered, "I didn't know."

_Such promise, indeed._

_Stupid, foolish girl._

Charlotte's arms pushed behind her, her lungs gasping for air against the chimaera above her.

Her fingers pressed into something soft, and moist.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Regulus's bloated, pale face stared up at her.

Alongside him were others she recognized.

Wilhemina's purple, bloodshot eyes.

The Wingers's bruised, bent necks.

Peter.

The Potters.

The screams which tore from her mouth split the air like the roar of the chimaera's – as nails cutting chalkboards as she scrambled across the bodies beneath her. Each stifling breath she took to unleash another filled her mouth with the stench of decay and rot. Faces shifted against her weight until she was sinking between them.

Wilhemina's purple eyes faced her own, her mouth contoured in a silent, gaping cry.

_Murderer._

_Murderer._

* * *

Author's Note: Well, this chapter took an exceptionally long time to write. Real life has been a hippogriff ride! Mr. K and I are planning a wedding in October now that we've gotten all moved into our cozy new house. I hope you all have been happy, healthy, and well, and my thoughts are with all of you during these uncertain times. Please remember what Dumbledore told us, "Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light".

Don't forget to turn on your lights.

* * *

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